Through Grace
by VR Trakowski
Summary: In the aftermath of the War, Snape has resigned himself to life.  But when fresh horror emerges from beneath Malfoy Manor,  will he be able to make the ultimate sacrifice one more time?
1. Chapter 1

**The characters and situations in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. **

**Yeah, okay. Let me state first that I am new to this fandom and do not possess the proper encyclopediac knowledge thereof. This story stems from my muse being a perverse nonentity. I have had the invaluable assistance of two editors, but I probably slipped up more than once. **

**Speaking of, ****Cincoflex**** - as always - is my rock and enthusiastic supporter, and helped me straighten this thing out repeatedly, and put up with my going crazy(er) for most of January. ****Trialia**** generously Britpicked the manuscript with consummate attention to detail. Occasionally I ignored their excellent advice, so don't blame them. **

**Finally - last warning - with a fandom this enormous, I must assume that everything has been done already. The only excuse I have is that I haven't read it. Any unoriginality is completely accidental. **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_2000_

There was someone in his study.

Slowly, Severus lowered his quill. None of his wards had gone off, so odds were the presence was benign; nonetheless, he had a hex ready to speak, paranoia being one of the reasons he'd survived to the present day. But the small figure standing barefoot on his worn rug was most definitely not a threat.

Severus considered the house-elf for a long moment. It wore a clean towel toga-style and looked to be fairly young, though age was always a difficult thing to judge in house-elves, and he didn't think he'd ever seen it before. It certainly wasn't his; he employed no elves.

When it said nothing, he raised one brow. "Well?"

Apparently permission was what it was waiting for. Gravely the house-elf stepped forward, extending a sealed letter.

Severus took it warily, but the heavy paper was embossed with the Malfoy crest and the wax bore the mark of the son of the house.

"Why is Draco sending messages by you instead of by owl?" Severus asked as he cracked the seal.

The house-elf shook its head. "Tosk does not know, sir. Tosk only knows he must wait for any reply."

Well, that was that, then; there was no point in questioning the creature further. Severus turned his attention to the message.

It was brief and puzzling, Draco's rather childish script spiky with some disturbance. _Sir, _it read, _what can you tell me about other worlds? _

Severus squinted at the note. _Other worlds?_ What nonsense was this? Pure theory had never been one of his interests - he preferred the solidity of practical magic. Drawing out his wand, he performed a couple of quick revealing charms on the paper, but no further message appeared.

But the mere fact of the request meant Draco was serious. Severus thought for a moment, knowing that the house-elf would wait patiently, and considered the question.

Many magical philosophers had postulated the existence of other worlds or dimensions over the centuries, but as far as Severus knew it was theory alone. Some few experimenters had tried to find gateways into such, but most had titles like "the Mad", and all of them were deceased. Thinking back, Severus remembered vaguely that the concept had been discussed in one of his classes at Hogwarts - mostly with an eye to possible summoning of creatures from another place - but no special emphasis had been placed upon the idea.

_Why does Draco need this information?_ The boy had been regrettably mediocre academically during his years at Hogwarts, and Severus didn't think that had changed much in the two years since the Dark Lord's war. But he also doubted that the Malfoy library held much on the subject, and Wizarding libraries weren't common. _In fact, the best books on the subject are probably either at Hogwarts, or privately held._

_But why come to me?_ Severus hadn't set foot on the Hogwarts grounds since waking up to find himself, disappointingly, still alive; and while Draco held Severus in a somewhat nauseating awe for protecting him, he hadn't seen much of the boy lately either. Neither Severus nor Lucius enjoyed the sight of one another.

Something was going on, that was clear; but Severus didn't feel inclined to get involved. He pulled a fresh sheet of parchment from his desk and wrote a quick note in response. _Very little. They are theoretical and, if not discredited, considered unreachable. You might try - _

- and there his hand paused. Severus had tried to bury much of his life in the back of his mind, striving for a fragile peace, but now a thread of voice unwound itself and shouldered forward. _No more worlds to conquer?_ it asked lightly, and he shivered as the memory made itself felt.

Voldemort, pacing slowly as he sometimes did when pontificating, an attitude that could turn from amusement to deadly fury without warning. Musing on what would happen when his great vision was achieved and all the world lay in his power. Smiling at someone's toadying suggestion that he could then rest on his accomplishments. _There are other worlds,_ he had said, with that airy amusement. _Perhaps I'll set the Unspeakables to finding them for me._ Everyone had laughed -

Deliberately, Severus closed the memory away again. The quill in his hand had dried; he dipped it again and bent to the parchment once more. - _the British Library if you take care to use the Wizarding entrance. _Surely the boy wasn't trying to fulfil Voldemort's old dream; he hadn't even been present for the conversation.

He scrawled his signature, sealed the parchment with a bit of wax and a spark from his wand, and handed it back to Tosk, who bowed and vanished.

_Odd._

Severus dismissed the incident from his thoughts, and resumed his interrupted task of replying to the Headmistress' latest missive. _Once again, Minerva, I must decline your repeated invitation to resume my post at Hogwarts. I like my freedom and I intend to keep it, never mind your flattery about my less than stellar teaching abilities. _

_However, you are still welcome to visit and try to persuade me, as long as you bring another bottle when you come. _

He smiled as he sealed the letter - Minerva was a worthy conversationalist over tea or drinks - and set it aside for later before going in search of something to read.

Half an hour later the same indefinable shift of the air told him that Tosk was back. He lowered his book, beginning to be annoyed, but before he could demand an explanation the house-elf stepped forward. "Young master needs you," he said firmly, and grabbed Severus' wrist.

The impulse to shake free came too late. Side-along Apparition by house-elf was different from that of humans, but before he could do more than realise he was in transit Severus found himself seated not in his armchair but on the edge of a bed, book still in his other hand.

"No! What have you done?" Draco's voice was anguished, frightened - the sound brought back old memories, of wind and night and the inevitability of an old man's machinations, and the ashy taste of death on his tongue. "Take him back, take him back!"

Tosk's long fingers - cool and dry - unwrapped from Severus' arm, and the house-elf bowed. "Young master needs him," he repeated, and vanished.

The oath Draco spat actually did blister a bit of the ornate room's paint. Severus looked around, taking in the huge canopied bed, the heavily carved furniture, the thick rugs - in short, exactly how a private room of the Malfoy manor should appear. Long training in dealing calmly with the unexpected let him turn his gaze on his former student. "What, may I ask, is going on?"

Draco, standing near the end of the bed with his fists clenched, groaned. He was as pale as he had been during the height of the Dark Lord's reign, but for the purple-blue bruise around one eye. "I didn't mean for this to happen - "

"Clearly. _What_ is _going on,_ Mr. Malfoy?" He had no authority over the boy any longer, but the tone seemed to help. Draco straightened and swallowed.

"Disaster, that's what." He rubbed his eyes with one hand, and Severus realised uneasily that grief as well as terror marked his face. "We have to get you out of here, but I don't know _how._"

"The same way I came in?" Severus suggested drily, more and more alarmed at Draco's desire to get him away from the manor, but Draco shook his head.

"Tosk is the only house-elf left and he acts - peculiar. I can't even find him most of the time, not that I want him showing up right now, but - " He gulped. "Maybe I should start from the beginning."

"Perhaps you should." Severus frowned. "Since you are not suggesting I Disapparate myself, I assume that the manor is under wards."

"Yeah." Draco's shoulders sagged, and he pointed his wand at the two overstuffed chairs near the room's big hearth. They walked over the rug to the bed, and Draco collapsed into one. Reflecting that a chair was more dignified than the bed, Severus took the other.

"The beginning," Severus reminded him.

Draco let out a long breath, but it eased him not at all. "Two days ago - no, wait. You know my father had a store of…artefacts."

"Dark objects, yes." Lucius had been known for it, in fact, hoarding nasty treasures like a squirrel hoarded nuts, and to less purpose. "I take it the Ministry didn't find them all?"

Draco snorted. "As if those prats could outwit us. There's at least two storage rooms they didn't find - not that I know about everything that's in them. Not all Dark," he added hastily. "Some of it's just old, or strange. Father inherited some of it, and Mother had a piece or two from the Blacks as well."

Severus nodded. "Go on."

"Two days ago…well, we hadn't any warning. The door blew off the cellar stairs, and Aunt Bella and two goons came storming out."

The statement ran ice up Severus' spine. "Bellatrix died in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"I know." Draco's face twisted. "I know! But it was _her_, Professor, there was no way to mistake her."

And Draco should know, Severus reflected, since the boy had had to live with the madwoman when Voldemort had commandeered Malfoy Manor. He frowned, running through possibilities in his head. "Neither of us saw her body. Was her death an error? Could she have fled and - "

Draco cut him off with a sharp gesture. "_No._ I wish, but it's not that simple." His hand was shaking, and again there was grief in his face.

"Go on," Severus said quietly.

"We were eating breakfast," the boy said, his voice going dull. "They just _appeared_, screaming threats, and Father leapt up, but Bellatrix didn't even give him a chance to draw his wand." Thin hands rose to cover his face. "She destroyed him - burnt him alive."

Severus held back a hard shudder at the muffled words. Bellatrix was quite capable of such an act, to be sure, but he'd thought her particular rabid evil gone forever. _Lucius. _No one deserved such a fate.

"I'm sorry," he told the boy gently. Whatever broken thing Lucius had become by the end of the war, whatever tangled feelings Draco had possessed about his father, it could not have been an easy thing to witness.

But where had she come from? _They said she was dead. What happened? _

Draco shrugged one shoulder, a gesture of helplessness rather than dismissal, and lifted his head, blinking. "Well. After that we didn't cross her, and those two brutes she controls - " He touched the bruise surrounding his eye absently, and Severus could fill in the unspoken story. "She slammed wards around the manor and forbade Mother and I to breach them. She's been wandering around ranting to herself and demanding - "

Severus held up a hand. "I can imagine. But that doesn't explain where she came from. If her death was not an error…"

Draco grimaced. "She came through one of the artefacts. A mirror; it belonged to Great-great-great-uncle Catullus Black and he was an experimenter."

"She came through…a mirror?" Severus frowned again. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know!" Draco's voice cracked, a note of hysteria. "She says - they say - it's another world. Like ours. V-voldemort died there too, and they were running from the Aurors. And came here."

Severus blinked, mind racing over the possibilities. _Other worlds._ The theory had borne fruit for someone, it seemed. Though how Bellatrix had been the one to find it -

The door across from him swung open with a creak, and Draco froze. Bellatrix stood in the opening, wand pointed straight at Severus' throat. He held very still, breath going shallow as it had when he'd been faced with Voldemort in a temper, and closed off all expression, damning himself for letting his instincts weaken.

"Well, well, well," Bellatrix said, stepping into the room. "What have we here?"

The terror and guilt in Draco's eyes were enough to make Severus want to wince, but then the boy surprised him by going blank and calm. "Aunt Bella - "

She ignored him, strolling closer, and Severus could see the madness glinting in her gaze, the malevolent mix of hatred and obsession that had made her one of Voldemort's most dangerous followers. "An intruder. How unfortunate."

He regarded her without moving, or displaying fear; showing belly to Madam Lestrange merely invited her to rip it out. "Bellatrix. How charming to see you again."

Her face creased in alarm and rage, and in an instant she was next to him, wand digging into the soft flesh beneath his chin. _"How do you know my name?"_

And there was the first definitive proof of Draco's absurd claim, the back of Severus' mind told him. _She doesn't know who I am._

"Because we've met before," he said forcefully, using the same sharp emphasis he had always needed to get a point across to her.

Her breath hissed in his ear, and then the wand snapped abruptly away, though it was still pointed at him as she stepped back. "Wait…wait…I know your face. I've seen your face. Long ago." She tapped her chin with her fingers, eyes lighting with malicious glee. "You! You're the famous one, the hero, Severus Snape! But how _old_ you've become."

Bellatrix stepped back again, and Severus willed Draco to pull out his own wand and simply stun the woman, but the boy seemed paralysed himself, huddled in his chair. "You're dead," Bellatrix informed him, smiling like a shark. "It was you who was responsible for the Dark Lord's ruin. I'll just even things up, shall I?"

Severus tensed, wondering if even his reflexes could save him against her speed, but Draco spoke, pitching his voice to carry. "Don't! He's on our side."

Bellatrix hesitated, and Draco gestured, his gaze boring into Severus'. "Show her. Show her the Mark."

He almost refused, maddened Death notwithstanding. He understood the deception Draco was trying to play, but he'd thought it was all behind him at last, the one benefit of survival the fact that he need not play a part any longer.

_Vain hope._

Wearily, disgust at the old deceit made new again, Severus undid the buttons of his cuff and sleeve and rolled them both up, exposing the Dark Mark embedded in his arm. It was quiescent now, its spells all shattered, but the sight still made him faintly ill, the ugly darkness improving his pale skin not at all.

Bellatrix stared at it for a long moment, and then her scream of laughter made Severus hide a flinch. "Brilliant! The Hero is a Death Eater!"

Behind her, Draco's eyes closed in relief. Severus sat back, miming relaxation and lacing his voice with boredom. "Obviously. Are you satisfied?"

Bellatrix's laughter cut off and was replaced with suspicion. "But how did you get _in?_ No one gets past my wards."

"I was here all along." Severus lidded his eyes and dropped, with nauseating ease, into deception. "I do visit old friends on occasion, you know." He rolled his sleeve back down, looking away as if she weren't worth his attention. "If your toadies couldn't find me, I suggest you have a word with them."

The lie was absurd, of course, but he knew - had known - Bellatrix very well; he'd had to, to survive her. She had some peculiar blind spots, and in pursuit of a goal could be extremely narrow-minded. It could be used to advantage.

Bellatrix hissed again, her rage fortunately focused elsewhere this time, but she still had him in her sights. "Wand," she said.

Everything in him rebelled, but Severus knew there was little choice. She had the drop on him, and if he refused she would either stun him and claim it anyway, or kill him out of hand. He produced his and let her take it, trying not to feel as if she contaminated it with her touch.

"I wouldn't use it," he cautioned grimly. "It will take severe exception."

Bellatrix sneered, but he saw uncertainty flicker across her face as she tucked his wand away. Then hers was pointed at Draco. "Tell him what we need," she demanded. "If he's not useful there's no reason to keep him around."

And with that she was gone, striding out in a flurry of ragged skirt and tangled hair.

The very air seemed cleaner. Draco took a deep breath and let it out, sagging. Severus relaxed fractionally, though the awareness of his missing wand was an almost physical ache. For the moment, though, there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered miserably. "I never - "

Severus cut him off. "It's done." He supposed he should be angry, but he hated traps as much as the Dark Lord had enjoyed them, and Draco was in one again. "What is it that she wants?"

Draco grimaced. "Arithmancers. She wants to…change the mirror somehow, so it'll go to a _different_ world. One where Voldemort didn't die."

"Arithmancy was never one of my strong points." Severus considered the concept; as impossible as the whole thing seemed, it appeared that the safest course would be to assume that events _had_ unfolded as Draco had related. He'd seen a violent madman pull himself back from the grave, after all; what was a world-crossing mirror to that? "Has she considered, I wonder, what will happen if she chooses a world in which _she_ is still alive?"

Draco's eyes widened at the vision, and he choked - half laughter, half horror. Severus permitted himself the merest flicker of a grim smile. "Is your mother all right?"

Draco winced. "I don't know. She stays in her room; Tosk brings her meals there but I don't think she's eating much."

"Bellatrix hasn't harmed her?"

"I don't think so. She keeps us separated, you see." A flash of hate lit Draco's eyes for a moment. "But Mother always did try to humour Aunt Bella. I expect she's doing that now."

Severus nodded. "Perhaps I can see her." And warn her not to expose him. He frowned. "Even if I'm supposed to be dead, I don't understand why Bellatrix didn't recognise me. Surely she's not that far gone."

Draco tapped his fingers on his thigh. "I'm not certain, but going from some of the things they say - this other world they came from, it's like ours but not exactly. I mean to say, it's enough the same that she knows who _we_ are - " His gesture took in the Malfoys in general. " - but she survived the war. Maybe you…aren't you, there."

Severus folded his hands together, thinking hard. "A 'hero', dead, famous enough for her to know my face. 'Responsible for the Dark Lord's ruin'." He shook his head, baffled.

"Sounds almost like Saint Potter," Draco offered, his habitual contempt less than it had been in the past. "Except for the dead part."

"Yes, thank you," Severus returned drily, and Draco actually smiled. "But she also called me 'old' - and while I admit to a certain level of decrepitude, she made it sound as if I, or the me there, perished some time ago."

"I don't know." Draco's smile faded, leaving him looking older than his - what was it now, twenty years? He still seemed absurdly young to Severus. "I'm having enough trouble believing any of this is real."

Severus nodded. "I also. However, we must deal with what _is_; how it got here can wait." He rose, shaking out the skirts of his coat. "I will attempt to see your mother."

Draco walked out with him. "I'll see if I can get Tosk to set you up a room in my wing," the boy said as they neared the wide central staircase. "There are some things of Father's you can Transmogrify - or I can do it for you, I suppose." He flushed. "Sir, I really am sorry - "

Draco was badly upset if he was apologising this much. Severus shook his head. "Stop. Regret is useless; what we need are solutions." They reached the top of the stairs, and he tilted his head towards the east wing. "I will attempt to reach your mother."

Draco grimaced. "Watch out; her wards bite."

Distant, muffled screams broke the house's hush, and Draco's flush drained away, leaving him almost green. Apparently Bellatrix was chastising her minions for missing Severus in their search.

"Go," Severus told him, and the boy didn't hesitate, hurrying back westwards towards his own suite. Even without his wand, Severus could feel the breath of magic veiling the east corridor, acidic and coldly spiteful, but when he took a cautious step forward it ignored him. _They're set for Draco specifically, then._

The carpet was lush, and his feet made no sound. Severus snorted to himself. _Regret is useless. _The words were old, and bitter; he'd spent most of his life regretting, and still did, even if it didn't gnaw at him the way it once had. In a strange, twisted way, his regret had been very useful indeed.

_But not to me._

If he could undo just one thing…his mind ranged over possibilities. His survival, Dumbledore's death, the way he'd handled Potter, the way he'd handled _Voldemort_, spilling the prophecy…all the way back to a burst of tormented fury on a sunny day. Or did it go back even further, to the first time he'd opened the worn book of Dark spells and begun to read?

And yet, what would have happened if he had made a different choice? Albus had never doubted, never allowed Severus to voice a doubt, but in the end Severus just wasn't certain. He might have won happiness, though in darker times he thought that such a thing was never meant for him.

_Or it might have been that the Dark Lord never lost. _

The thought had no tinge of triumph or satisfaction about it, just a tired consideration. Would those few fleeting years of joy been enough in the face of the world crashing down?

To the young man he'd been, Severus was very much afraid that the answer would have been _yes_.

He shook off the thought as he reached the master suite. The door was half-open, and he rapped lightly on the frame. "Narcissa?"

She was seated in an armchair near the window; the sun was on the other side of the house by now, but in the morning it would flood over her - an odd thought for a pale Malfoy-née-Black, but there were always skin-protection charms. Now, in the diffuse light of afternoon, it took a long moment for her head to turn and her gaze to focus. "Severus."

He stepped into the room without waiting for permission. Narcissa watched him approach, no quirk of curiosity marring her expression, and he frowned. Her stillness was not natural, even for someone so formal and reserved. "I am…sorry for your loss."

She inclined her head slowly, still without changing expression. Narcissa was impeccably groomed, as always, a china doll of perfection, and the tea set on the little table next to her chair was the fitting accent for the lady of the house. But something was _wrong,_ something more than just her sister's malevolent presence.

"Draco is worried about you," Severus said - the truth, but also an experiment. For an instant, a spark lit her eyes.

"Draco," she murmured. "Is he well?"

"For the moment." Severus regarded her, wanting to give her his cover story before Bellatrix appeared, but the spark faded and her face returned to a gently smiling blank.

He dropped to a crouch and grabbed her chin with deliberate force, turning her head so he could look her in the eyes. "Narcissa, what has she done to you?"

She said nothing, offered no resistance; her hands, resting on the arms of the chair, did not so much as tense. Her pupils were normal, Severus noted distantly, and her breath bore no potion's betraying sweetness. _A spell, then._

He released her, watching the marks of his grip fade, and straightened. Narcissa looked up at him without any sign of alarm, as if waiting for something, and his stomach roiled with revulsion. Was Bellatrix so far gone as to use _Imperio_ on her own sister? Or was it something a little less powerful?

Without his wand there was no telling.

Nor was there any point in explaining what he and Draco were trying to do. Not only would she not retain the information, she was not capable of betraying them. _Or of doing much of anything._ Severus suspected that Tosk was responsible for Narcissa's polished state.

Staying would just turn his stomach further. Severus gave her a short nod and left.

He made his way back towards Draco's suite, thinking that it was strange that the incident that had shocked him the most that day was seeing the woman whose fierce protection of her son had compelled him to the Unbreakable Vow reduced to _that_.

_Mirrors. Other worlds. Ha._

The Aurors in that other world, Severus decided, had a lot to answer for in letting Bellatrix escape.

Draco's door was closed, but it swung open when Severus approached, and the boy rose as Severus entered. "Is Mother well?"

"She is...unharmed." Severus grimaced. "Bellatrix has her under some strong spell, I can't tell what without my wand. But she doesn't appear injured, merely barely responsive."

Draco hissed slightly, and Severus gestured him back to his chair. "She asked about you."

The boy sat, still drawn wire-tight but a little of his stress eased. "With Father - dead, she has no one to protect her. Not even me," he added bitterly.

Severus took the other chair. "I take it you have not attempted any aggression towards your aunt?"

"Mother forbade it." Draco's expression hinted at relief along with anger. "She said it was safer just to go along with her."

Severus wondered with some irritation why Narcissa was so determined to keep her son from growing up, and just when Draco would finally begin acting like an adult on his own. Still, in this case - "That's probably wise. She's undoubtedly made use of defensive charms."

Draco nodded. "And her two louts keep watch at night, not that she sleeps much." He touched his bruised eye.

"Have you tried asking Tosk to take a message elsewhere?" It seemed an obvious course of action, but panic could make people make odd choices and Severus did not want to assume anything.

"Yes. He won't. Says he's forbidden." Draco shrugged helplessly. "I don't know why - it may be left over from when Voldemort was here."

"Yet he came to me." Severus steepled his forefingers and pressed them to his lips, thinking.

"I never thought of them as having minds of their own, house-elves," Draco said musingly. "Not until Dobby made a mess of things for Aunt Bella and got Potter and his friends out."

"She killed him, you know." He'd had the story from Minerva, on one of her infrequent visits, but judging from Draco's surprise, he hadn't heard the story.

"Really? That's - " Draco shook his head. "I…I wished then that he'd taken me too."

Trapped in his parents' mansion with death and evil breathing down his neck - Severus could see the appeal of escape. "I doubt Potter would have reacted well to that."

Draco snorted. "No doubt. Do you think there's any way to get a message to someone? And who could we contact?" He grimaced, waving a hand at the floor. "Who'd believe us?"

"The Aurors, to start with," Severus answered. "As for the message, _Trapped in Malfoy Manor by Death Eaters_ should be sufficient. But getting the message _out_ is the real issue." He regarded the young man across from him. "Does your father's collection include a Vanishing Cabinet, by chance?"

Draco's mouth twitched in a wry smile. "Unfortunately, no. And I can't leave Mother anyway."

"Mmm." Severus didn't argue; there would be time for that, or trickery, later, when they had something more solid to work with.

Tosk appeared in the middle of the room and bowed. "Guest of the young sir, your room is prepared." Before Severus could do more than nod, the house-elf vanished again.

_It's as though he doesn't want to face us._ Well, going against the desires of their masters could be painful for house-elves, even if there were spells compelling their resistance. He couldn't blame the creature for wanting to avoid them.

Draco jerked a thumb. "It's the suite next to mine. If you need anything…sometimes I can find Tosk in the kitchens, or you can try Mother's rooms since you can pass the wards."

Severus nodded, and stood. "I will retire, then. This will require some thought."

He was almost to the door when Draco spoke. "I won't apologise again, sir, but - I'm glad you're here."

Severus tilted his head in acknowledgment, and left the boy behind.

**xxxx**

It was exhausting to be needed again, he reflected later in the dense hush of the guest suite. He had had two years of answering to no one but himself - for the first time in his life, actually - and the freedom had been sweet. But the imperative to protect the children was just too strong, and Draco, despite his age, was no adult.

_Life's not fair. You know that quite well. _

Without his wand, he could not test the wards. But it finally occurred to him that if Bellatrix had warded the mansion and yet allowed Draco to retain his wand, without doubt the wards were set to do something extremely unpleasant to anyone who struck out against her or her minions. Which was another reason for Draco to leave her be. _Wise of you, Narcissa. We shall have to find another way. _

In the meantime, he had a puzzle to solve.

Severus hadn't bothered to light the lamps as the sunset faded, and now he sat in the dark. Tosk had brought him a light supper, which sat ignored on the fireside table.

_How to get a message out when we can use neither owls nor elves nor our own feet?_

He'd always enjoyed a good puzzle, like deconstructing a potion to discover its ingredients, or creating a new charm or hex. Lil - someone had used to tease him, long ago, that he should have been in Ravenclaw instead.

But Slytherin had fit him like a proverbial glove, supple and supporting. Deviousness had been beaten into him at a young age; ambition would be what pulled him from the muck of his childhood.

The Floo network was cut off by Bellatrix's wards, and they could not physically leave the grounds. They could wait, Severus supposed, until she thought she had what she wanted, and vanished back through the mirror - or until someone noticed that the Malfoys had suddenly gone incommunicado.

Certainly no one would come looking for _him_. Well, no, he had to concede that eventually Minerva might think to wonder why he had been silent so long, but that could be quite a while.

But waiting carried a strong risk that Bellatrix would seriously injure or kill one or more of them in a fit of rage, or simply of boredom. Severus didn't count his own life as particularly valuable, but he would hate to see Draco's promise snuffed out, or for that matter Narcissa slain out of hand.

_I've seen enough death already._

The next obvious answer was to cast a Patronus and send it with a message. The idea hadn't occurred to Draco, he was sure; Death Eaters could not produce them, with one glaring exception, and while Draco's current status was debatable, he doubted that the boy ever had cast one.

_For that matter, I doubt anyone even tried to teach him._ _Expecto Patronum_ was not easy magic.

Severus could cast one still. It had been some time since he _had_; he'd done it once during his recovery, to be sure that the doe had not left him. But not since.

But without a wand he could cast nothing; and should Draco agree to lend Severus his, he still wasn't certain that he could cast something so supremely _personal_ with a strange wand. The mere idea was distasteful.

_And yet…_

There was one way he could, in theory, get his wand back. It was a supremely dangerous move, but boldness counted with the Dark Lord's minions. And he'd gambled his life often enough to know the worth of it. Or the lack thereof.

Severus smiled in the darkness, a small and chilly expression. _Yes. That will do._


	2. Chapter 2

**The characters and situations in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. **

**Yeah, okay. Let me state first that I am new to this fandom and do not possess the proper encyclopediac knowledge thereof. This story stems from my muse being a perverse nonentity. I have had the invaluable assistance of two editors, but I probably slipped up more than once. **

**Speaking of, ****Cincoflex**** - as always - is my rock and enthusiastic supporter, and helped me straighten this thing out repeatedly, and put up with my going crazy(er) for most of January. ****Trialia**** generously Britpicked the manuscript with consummate attention to detail. Occasionally I ignored their excellent advice, so don't blame them. **

**Finally - last warning - with a fandom this enormous, I must assume that everything has been done already. The only excuse I have is that I haven't read it. Any unoriginality is completely accidental.**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The morning brought cool, diffuse light, tea and toast to replace his untouched supper, and the necessity of changing.

Draco had managed to find plain clothes among his father's garments; they were a trifle too short at wrist and hem, but the white shirt and under-things fit well enough. Severus decided that the trousers would do without magical alteration, and his coat was still clean. He grimaced as he buttoned the latter; dead men's clothes were hardly his first choice of attire, and the lack of his wand to perform even the most menial freshening charm was a physical ache.

But the garments were clean, if redolent of Lucius' clove cologne, and Severus knew that he could not spend the day in the guest suite. Bellatrix would take it as cowardice, and come hunting him.

_Besides…I have something to offer. _

Severus ate his breakfast, wondering idly just how house-elves knew exactly what wizards wanted to eat at any given time, and went to find Draco. The boy was sitting in his suite, managing to look sulky and enraged at the same time, but the snarl slipped away when he saw Severus at the door.

Severus didn't bother to enquire if he'd eaten. "You said yesterday that Bellatrix wants Arithmancers."

Draco nodded jerkily, and Severus inclined his own head. "Perhaps, then, we can help her find what she needs."

"Really?" Draco looked torn between hope and distaste, and Severus guessed that he was feeling much the same conflict - the Slytherin desire for self-preservation vying with the stricture that one did not let a rabid animal roam free, even into someone else's yard.

Severus shrugged. "Arithmancy may not be one of my talents...but Bellatrix doesn't know that."

Draco blinked. "You...that's a dangerous game to play."

"It will buy us time. I doubt she realises that no reputable Arithmancer will believe her request, let alone take it on." Severus waved the issue aside for the moment. "If I'm to be an Arithmancer, I'll need data. Where is this mirror?"

"I'll show you." Draco rose hastily to his feet, as if desperate for something to do. Severus followed him down the big staircase, missing his wand desperately. _I hope it doesn't occur to Bellatrix to wonder why I'm not in Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eaters. _

Draco took him down through the main part of the house, which had been redecorated since Voldemort's occupation, Severus saw. The cellar door was gone, leaving a singed frame and a set of half-melted hinges. But they could not pass through; the wards barring their way were strong enough to sting when Severus tested them with one hand.

"This won't do. We'll have to ask Bellatrix for access."

Draco swallowed, colour still gone, and Severus took pity on him. "I'll speak with her. But we had better go together."

They found Bellatrix in the manor's echoing ballroom, lying on her back on the floor and shooting out the crystals on the chandelier with her wand; glassy shards lay everywhere. Severus ignored the crunch underfoot and strode over to her, Draco trailing behind. "Draco tells me you need an Arithmancer. I am willing to offer my services," he said without preamble.

Bellatrix glared at him, rolling smoothly to her feet and keeping her wand in her hand. "You're an Arithmancer?"

Severus looked down his nose at her, not bothering to mask his disdain. "I am." The lie fell easily from his tongue. "Your little problem...appeals to me. But if you want my aid, you must let me examine the mirror."

She tapped her wand against her thigh, eyes narrowing, but he let no hint of doubt show. _I have lied to one far more dangerous than you. You do not frighten me._

"What do you want?" she said finally.

"Your good will." Severus gave her a mere hint of a cool smile. "And perhaps...should I succeed...the opportunity to prove my loyalty even as you are proving yours."

Bellatrix's mouth twisted in doubt. "How do I know you won't betray me?"

Severus tapped his left forearm. Behind him, Draco spoke up. "I can vouch for him, Aunt Bella."

Her eyes, dark as Severus' own, didn't waver from his face, but finally she gave a short nod, tossing her head in disdain. "Very well. Come along."

She took a different path back to the cellar door so as to collect one of her minions. This led them through the breakfast room, and she giggled when Draco circled around the charred spot on the floor. Severus merely stepped over it as if it were beneath his notice.

The mirror was in a room far back under the manor; Bellatrix led them through the main cellar and through two more doors, both of them blown open from the inside. One at least would have been invisible from the outside, Severus saw.

The rooms they passed through held a variety of shrouded shapes, which he ignored. Lucius had possessed quite the treasure trove despite Arthur Weasley's best efforts, it seemed, but it really wasn't Severus' concern at the moment.

The mirror was a large one in a swivel frame, the wood smooth and without carving; a dust-sheet lay crumpled to one side. The thing was easily large enough to accommodate the passage of a human body, Severus noted, though he himself would have to duck to pass through. The glass looked ordinary enough as they approached, but it reflected only the room and its contents; their forms were entirely absent.

Severus looked it over ostentatiously, then pitched his voice to the note he had used on recalcitrant fourth-years. "I require my wand."

Bellatrix snarled. "Why?"

Severus rolled his eyes, making sure she could see him do so. "For measuring. The equations require dimensions precise to the micrometre if I am to produce the results you desire."

He held out his hand without looking at her, knowing that the least hint of uncertainty would have her turning on him like a starved mink. A moment later, the cool smoothness of his wand weighted his palm.

The feel of it was edged with the taste of smoke, telling him that Bellatrix had attempted to somehow bespell or hex his wand, but Severus pretended not to notice. Nor did he give a hint of his utter relief at having it back in his possession. Instead, he ran a standard set of measuring charms on the mirror, adjusting for fine detail. He wouldn't have any idea what to do with the data, but it would look good.

When the information was gathered, he considered his next move, hiding it in a contemplative stare at the mirror. A true Arithmancer might want to remain near the object, so as to adjust the equations on the fly, but Bellatrix would never leave him alone with it.

_I'll have to risk it._

"That will do." Severus spun on his heel and started back towards the front cellar, leaving both Draco and Bellatrix scrambling to catch up. "I shall return to my room and begin the equations."

Bellatrix's face lit up with a manic hope that made him feel queasy; she'd swallowed the lie whole. "You can do it!"

"I believe I can," he allowed. "But it will take some time. The equations will be extremely complex." When Bellatrix reached for his wand, he snapped it out of range. "I will need it for my work."

She…_pouted._ The expression made him briefly dizzy; he hadn't realised how much the balance of power had just tipped. "Oh, very well, keep your precious wand," she said, and whirled away, skipping ahead of them.

The suite assigned to him included a small study, and Severus set up the equations there, watched by one of Bellatrix's two minions. The hulking brute had been detailed to guard him, and Severus didn't dare protest, reflecting sourly that it was certainly better than having Bellatrix herself breathing down his neck - both proverbially and literally, knowing her. The minion merely made himself comfortable on a brocade love-seat, ostentatiously propping his boots on the arm and sneering in Severus' general direction.

However, teaching teenagers inured a man to many things. Severus dismissed the brute from his attention and went about turning the mirror's measurements into a convincing tangle of equations, glowing slightly as they hung in the air of the room. He had no fears that the man would expose his chicanery; anyone who had followed Bellatrix blindly through a mirror was hardly overly endowed with brains.

Severus spent a few hours pacing, muttering, and prodding the equations with his wand, changing a value here and there and once pulling the whole thing apart and starting again - playing his chosen role to perfection. Finally, well and truly bored, he whirled on the minion so sharply that the man sat up, whipping his feet off the furniture and all but backing away. "Tell me," Severus said, "about your world."

"Uh - I - what?" the man stuttered, and Severus folded his arms across his chest and glared.

"Tell me. About. Your world," he enunciated slowly. "I need more data. How is it different from this one?"

"Well - dunno." The man shrank back against the love-seat. Severus sighed audibly.

"_Think_. You are capable of thinking, are you not? Madam Lestrange is dead in this world, alive in yours. I am dead in your world but alive in this one. What else is different?"

Truthfully, he didn't think the thug could have learned much about any differences, cooped up in the mansion ever since he'd come through, but it had been a long time since Severus had had a good rant at someone and he decided he might as well enjoy himself.

"Well, you ain't a Death Eater at home, I can tell you that!" the minion said, gesturing at Severus. "Great bloody hero back when the Dark Lord fell, but dead all the same."

Curious as he was about his other self, Severus didn't pursue the idea; he didn't want anyone's attention drawn to him, even a thick-headed follower like this one. "Very good. What else? How did the Dark Lord die?"

He managed to pry a somewhat muddled description of the battle at Hogwarts out of the man, but it was all second-hand. Murt Mallowe, as he gave his name, had been assigned elsewhere at the time - guarding a Bellatrix who had taken a strong blow to the head from the falling chandelier at Malfoy Manor. Much to her intense bitterness, she had not recovered her senses until after it was all over.

"An' right furious she was, too," Murt went on, shuddering. "There was three of us, you know. To start with, I mean."

"Mm." Severus could just imagine. _Bellatrix always was careless with resources. _"Continue."

He gained little more besides the fact that it had been Draco who had killed Dumbledore and the somewhat startling fact that the hero of the day was the _Girl_ Who Lived. The notion made Severus blink, but upon reflection it seemed as likely as anything else. The question of how Dumbledore would have reacted to that almost had him snickering.

Though one part of his treacherous mind had to wonder what Lily's daughter might have looked like. How much of James would translate to a female face? How much would be her mother's delicate beauty?

At some point during Murt's rambling, Tosk brought a substantial tea, and Severus let the man continue in his litany of complaints and irrelevant tangents as they ate. It was an enormous temptation to simply stun the man where he sat, but the wards were forever in the back of his mind. _If I can only get a few moments of privacy… _

It came simply enough, when Murt belched, stood, and muttered something about needing the loo. His eyes fixed on Severus' wand, but Severus unleashed the glower that had had lesser Death Eaters backing away, and Murt seemed to think better of trying to take it.

When he'd vanished into the rather plush toilet of the guest suite, Severus shot locking charms at its door and the one leading to the hallway, and with the strange mixture of pain and joy that had always accompanied the spell, he cast his Patronus.

The doe was as luminous and vivid as ever, cupping huge ears towards him and waiting. Severus spoke rapidly, deciding to go straight to the top - a Patronus was not something anyone could ignore. "Shacklebolt, Malfoy Manor has been invaded and warded by renegade Death Eaters. You'll need a large team with a curse-breaker." He let out a breath. "Lucius is dead."

That would do; no mention of Bellatrix, but enough warning. With a gesture, he sent the doe on her way, then removed the locking charms.

When Murt emerged from the toilet, Severus was examining his equations once more, borrowed clothing neatly Transfigured to fit and no hint of the Patronus about him. _Now it's just a matter of time. _

When the windows darkened with nightfall, Severus decided he'd had enough of fake Arithmancy for the day. _Time to reassure Bellatrix. _"Where's your mistress?" he snapped at Murt, who jumped.

"Er…probably with 'er sister." When Severus started towards the door, Murt barred his way. "I need to take your wand. Sir," he added involuntarily when Severus glared.

Severus thought about refusing, but the wards wouldn't permit him to win a conflict. "Very well." He gave it up, masking the discomfort of watching it pass into the thug's hands. "But I expect it back in perfect condition, is that clear?"

Murt flinched and bobbed his head, and Severus let himself sneer as he turned back to the door. _Minion._

He didn't see Draco on his way to the east wing. The door to Narcissa's rooms was wide open this time; Narcissa looked as though she hadn't moved since the day before, though her robes were different. Bellatrix sat opposite her, a teacup in her hand, chattering away like a crazed magpie.

Severus paused outside the door, drawing concealment about him like his own cloak; low-level wandless magic that had served him well countless times. Bellatrix was rambling in the high-pitched babyish voice he'd always despised. "…always said I was…it's an honour you know, and they're always jealous. Don't you think so, Cissy?"

Narcissa sipped from her teacup and smiled blankly at her sister. "Of course I do, dear."

Bellatrix nodded, evidently soothed, but she looked oddly to Severus like a puppy or a child, in desperate need of reassurance. He wondered just how much the loss of the master she'd served so long had unhinged her. _She must be completely lost without direction, without someone to believe in. _

Unfortunately, it probably made her more dangerous rather than less.

He let the concealment disperse and cleared his throat sharply. Bellatrix jumped, springing out of her chair and bringing up her wand, but Narcissa barely seemed to notice.

"I've begun my calculations," Severus said in a bored tone, as if Bellatrix were still sitting comfortably. "But they will take at least two days to complete."

"You can change it?" she half-whispered, wand lowering.

"I can try," he corrected her. "It may take several attempts to find the world you desire."

Eagerness, anger, fear all flickered over her face; she was beyond concealing any emotion now. Finally her features settled into a sort of delighted rage. "Good," she said, and threw the teacup straight at him.

He tilted his head to let it fly past, not flinching as it hit the doorframe and the shards pelted his shoulder. "Now _get out!_" Bellatrix screamed, and swept her wand upward. Severus found himself shoved back out the door, which slammed shut with an echoing boom.

He caught himself against the far wall, cursing silently at his loss of balance. _Don't be stupid, that could have gone much worse._

Severus found Draco in the main hall, pacing around and around, glancing up the stairs at every turn. When Severus came down them, Draco hurried over. "She's with Mother, isn't she? Is she hurting her?"

Severus held up a hand. "No. They are…having tea."

Draco glared at him for a long second, then let out his breath. "Truly?"

"Truly. I don't think she intends to hurt Narcissa, Draco, and she has your mother so deeply enchanted that Narcissa can't possibly say anything to set her off." Severus shrugged bitterly. "As much as I hate to admit it, she is probably safest as she is."

Draco said something that would have gotten points taken from Slytherin at Hogwarts, but he didn't argue. "If only I could _see_ her."

Severus shook his head, glancing back up the stairs to make sure that Bellatrix was not approaching. He kept his voice low. "I managed to get a message out."

Draco gaped at him, the sudden hope drawing his face tight. "How?"

"Never mind that," Severus said as he heard a door slam open above. "Just be prepared to act should the need arise. And control yourself," he added sharply. "Do you _want_ to give us away?"

Draco schooled his expression hastily back to sullenness as Bellatrix appeared at the top of the stairs, adding genuine fear as she came sweeping down them.

"Oh, there you are, Draco," she said with acid sweetness. "Mummy sends her love."

The boy had stepped back, half behind Severus. "How is she, Aunt Bella?"

"_She's_ just fine," Bellatrix said, starting to circle them. "She's dreadfully worried about her baby boy."

"I - I'm worried about her too," Draco said, turning as she walked around them. Severus kept his face expressionless, though uneasiness was starting to churn his stomach. Bellatrix was looking for a target.

"You should be. You're a good son, Draco, aren't you? Looking after Mummy?" She was still circling, grinning malignantly, leaving Severus feeling like a pivot point.

"I…try." Severus heard him swallow. Bellatrix tapped her wand against her palm, releasing a few sparks, but didn't stop.

"You _fail,_" she said, voice suddenly hard. "She told me all about it, you know. How you were supposed to kill Dumbledore."

Draco flinched, hard. Severus' stomach clenched. That particular memory hadn't gotten any easier over the years.

Bellatrix's attention shifted to Severus. "But _you_ did it instead. _You_ killed him. _You_ used the Unforgivable."

"That should assure you of my trustworthiness," he retorted, stepping away from Draco in hopes of keeping her focus on him.

"I admit, I didn't think you had it in you," Bellatrix said, sauntering closer. Behind her, Draco scuttled towards the big fireplace, currently cold and empty. "But why defy the Dark Lord so?"

Severus looked down his nose at her, though movement in his peripheral vision told him that Murt and the other thug had entered the room, no doubt summoned by Bellatrix. _She wants a show._

"I didn't," he replied. "The Dark Lord _expected_ Draco to fail. I was there to make sure his plan succeeded."And the old man begging for that last act, that last betrayal, that last honesty; had Dumbledore remembered how it hurt to kill?

"So strange," Bellatrix breathed, closing in on him. Her eyes were gleaming, insanity and fascination, and he realised that in her mind she was being seductive. "So strange to see the one who brought down the Dark Lord his strong right hand instead."

He couldn't step back without offending her, so Severus put on his most forbidding aspect instead, and chilled his voice to ice. "Clearly I was wiser in this world than in yours."

"Were you?" Her wand rose, trailing up the front of his coat, the tip weaving back and forth until it reached his throat, his chin, his lips. "Were you? _He_ is dead, and yet you live."

Severus reached up and wrapped his fingers around Bellatrix's wrist. The heat of her skin made his own crawl, but she didn't react, even when he squeezed. "To my eternal regret."

Just why it was true, she had no need to know.

"I don't believe you," Bellatrix whispered.

In that moment, Severus knew her paranoia had overtaken her. He braced himself for whatever foul spell she was planning, but two things happened at once: the wards on the cellar door blew spectacularly, and Draco took three long steps forward and smashed the vase he held down on Bellatrix's head.

The next moments were shouting confusion. People poured into the hall from the cellar, wands drawn - Aurors, he recognised some of them, though the direction they'd come from baffled him. Bellatrix reeled back, staggering over the shattered porcelain; Draco, horrified, pressed himself against the wall to avoid her; the minions began firing hexes at the invaders.

Severus' crisp _Accio_ brought his wand from Murt's pocket to his hand, but as he raised it three separate hexes hit Bellatrix at once, and she crumpled. The wards dissipated, the windows shattered, and still more people poured into the room. More Aurors.

Some of them the _same_ Aurors.

Both of the minions were down under body-bind curses. Everyone else was looking extremely nervous, wands at the ready, and Severus filled his lungs. "I think," he said loudly, "that the crisis has passed."

Heads turned to look at him. He saw two versions of Sally Budge, both dressed almost the same, and one dark-haired figure who moved exactly like Potter - except that across the room with the group from the windows stood Potter, most definitely. Gawain Robards, next to the boy, lowered his wand cautiously.

"Got your message, Snape," he said. "Mind telling us what the bloody hell is going on?"

Severus let his spine relax for the first time since the house-elf had taken his hand. "You're not going to like it."

"We already don't," said one of the Aurors from the cellar, a tall, beefy man. "But we got what we came for."

And he had gotten definitive proof of Draco's claims, Severus saw. He counted at least three Auror duplicates among the cellar group, presumably from the world Bellatrix had escaped. "Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you can best explain."

Draco pushed himself away from the wall, leaving smears of blood behind; porcelain was sharp. "I - I - " His back straightened, and his chin rose. "Of course. Will you see to Mother?"

And there, Severus thought, was the adult he'd been hoping Draco might become. He surveyed the group that had come through the windows. "Who's the curse-breaker? Ottlo? Come with me."

Severus half-ran up the stairs, not pausing to see if the witch followed him, though the sound of her feet told him that she did. Behind them, voices rose in question and exclamation, but not in alarm, and he trusted the two groups would behave themselves.

Certainly he didn't want to be the one doing the explaining.

The door to Narcissa's rooms was wide open. Narcissa herself was limp in her chair, unconscious, and Tosk was standing on the tea-table, chafing her hands and making distressed squeaking noises. It looked up as they ran in. "Guest of young sir! Help! Please help!"

Ottlo dodged past Severus to drop to her knees next to the chair, wand already moving. "Hmm, yes, yes…oh, that's a nasty one…"

He ran his own diagnostic, but it told him little more than that Narcissa's faint was not natural. The house-elf was still squeaking quietly, wringing its hands, but it didn't try to interfere. Severus felt a fleeting moment of sympathy for it; he was useless as well.

Ottlo sat back a bit, then glanced over her shoulder. "Out of range, please," she said calmly.

Severus grabbed the house-elf by the scruff - not too hard - and backed away. It kicked and squeaked louder, but didn't Disapparate, so he assumed it understood and set it on its feet next to him. Ottlo performed a very complicated motion with her wand, muttered something that didn't include any vowels, and tapped Narcissa.

Who gasped, convulsed, and opened her eyes. And screamed.

"It's all right! It's all right, Madam Malfoy," Ottlo soothed, but Narcissa shrank away from her. Tosk bounced over, laying a hand on Narcissa's knee.

"Mistress is well! Mistress is safe!" the creature beamed. Narcissa stared at it.

"Tosk?" she said weakly, and then turned her head. "Severus! What - "

"Tosk is correct; you are safe," he assured her. She didn't look as if she believed him, but before he could continue Draco tore past him, falling to his knees next to Ottlo.

"Draco! Oh - " Narcissa reached out, enfolding him, and Ottlo grinned and pushed to her feet.

"We'll let them get that out of the way," she said to Severus cheerfully.

"She'll be all right?" he asked, vaguely amused at the way the house-elf was bouncing in place.

"She will be. Most of that was backlash when the spells on her failed." Ottlo folded her arms, wand sticking up over her shoulder. "Was that really _Bellatrix Lestrange_ down there? I thought she was dead."

"She is," Severus said shortly. "Excuse me."

The two groups were mingling when he returned to the great hall, most of them talking animatedly. The three captives were so bound in ropes as to make them almost indistinguishable, and were laid out against one wall. Old habit made Severus search for Potter among the lot, finally spotting him across the room talking to someone of equal height and equally dark hair. The figure moved, turning - her - head, and Severus froze as the pieces fell into place.

Oh yes, there were the leaf-green eyes, Lily's brilliant eyes, the same as Potter's. Over them rode a scar identical to the boy's. But instead of Lily's features Severus saw dark, fine hair drawn smoothly back; a thin-lipped mouth; a proud nose.

It was a peculiar, dizzy moment, filled with a ringing hush, and the only real sound was the small sardonic voice in the back of his head, commenting that at least Lily's blood had made his forbidding features into something cleanly beautiful.

_Lily._

Her head turned; her green eyes saw him, and widened; her thin lips moved, mouthing an incredulous word. _Father?_

_I have no children,_ was all he could think. Severus turned on his heel, and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

**The characters and situations in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. **

**Yeah, okay. Let me state first that I am new to this fandom and do not possess the proper encyclopediac knowledge thereof. This story stems from my muse being a perverse nonentity. I have had the invaluable assistance of two editors, but I probably slipped up more than once. **

**Speaking of, ****Cincoflex**** - as always - is my rock and enthusiastic supporter, and helped me straighten this thing out repeatedly, and put up with my going crazy(er) for most of January. ****Trialia**** generously Britpicked the manuscript with consummate attention to detail. Occasionally I ignored their excellent advice, so don't blame them. **

**Finally - last warning - with a fandom this enormous, I must assume that everything has been done already. The only excuse I have is that I haven't read it. Any unoriginality is completely accidental. **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The wards were down; he could leave. Instead Severus retreated to the guest suite's study and one of its chairs, trying to control his tumbling thoughts, and giving the weak excuse that the Aurors would want to question him and he didn't want them invading him at home and -

He steepled his fingers and controlled his breathing, struggling for calm. He been a Death Eater and an Order member and a blasted double-agent _spy,_ and he would be _calm_. Whatever had gone on in that other world had nothing to do with him, not really. The other Severus Snape who had died a hero, died long ago, _responsible for the Dark Lord's fall_ -

Did they give Lily no credit at all in that world? he wondered bitterly.

_You're making assumptions_. But it was impossible to do otherwise. A Girl Who Lived, a woman with Potter's scar, with Lily's eyes and his own unmistakable nose - what else was he to think?

In that other world, Lily had chosen _him._

It was the strangest mix of despair and salving delight. Somewhere, some when, he'd been worthy, she'd forgiven him…but it wasn't _here_.

_And clearly it didn't last long._ If the cases were parallel, they had died victims of the Dark Lord's wrath, leaving that young woman an orphan and an unknowing Horcrux. Severus did his best to ignore the whisper of _it would have been worth it. _

He struggled to take in the implications, but his mind kept circling back to the idea, the knowledge proved in flesh and stark bone, that he'd won Lily. It was an unfamiliar shift in his old, old habits of thought. He couldn't help imagining it - he'd done it for years, what it would have been like - but now he pictured their deaths as well. He would have died first, of course, because there was no way he would have let Voldemort near his wife…or, he supposed, his daughter…without giving up every breath first.

His hands unfolded long enough for him to touch the bridge of his nose. _She must have a picture. Even this isn't enough to - _

The knock on his door was tentative, but still he jumped. And sighed in irritation. The conversation was inevitable, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Severus flicked his wand to open the door. "Come in, Potter."

The boy had no subtlety; he never had. But despite his flush, he'd grown enough to look Severus in the eye. "She wants to talk to you."

_That_ he hadn't expected. His first thought was to refuse, but curiosity reared up and fastened teeth in him. "…Very well."

Harry beckoned to someone further down the hall, and a few seconds later his near-double appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and wary. Severus had to swallow before he could speak. "Come in."

Harry led the way to the seating area, looking almost protective. "Sir, this is - Heather."

_A flower name. _It made sense; a Muggle tradition and a wizarding one combined. Severus managed a nod in return, and a wave of his hand at the chairs near his.

Both of them sat, perching on the edge of their cushions in identical fashion. Heather stared at Severus hungrily, a distinctly unsettling expression, and he shook his head at her. "I…I'm not him."

She flushed as well, darker than Potter, and thus drew his attention to the fact that her skin was much paler than her counterpart's - like his own. "I know. But I - "

"Was curious. I admit to the same failing." No one was in control of this conversation, but Severus couldn't think how to manage it. "How did you know? Photographs?"

Heather nodded jerkily. "There're only a couple, but yeah."

She was still staring, but then so was he. Severus had never desired children, never really thought about them - but presented with this might-have-been, he was riveted. She _was_ beautiful, in a way that was almost harsh, and she had his hands too - long and strong and elegant. She had Potter's air, as well, of maturity at odds with her age and eyes that had seen more than any twenty-year-old should.

"I don't know what to say to you," he admitted, and was startled by the flash of her smile - Lily's smile, a flick of pain across his heart.

"Me either. I never expected - " She shook her head, and Potter grinned a little.

"Who does? I didn't know this kind of thing was possible."

"Generally it isn't," Severus returned drily. "The existence of parallel worlds was, as far as I know, a strictly theoretical concept."

"Except for the mirror," the two of them pointed out in chorus, then looked at each other in astonishment.

Unsettled himself, Severus shook his head in turn. "I expect the Department of Mysteries will take up the question. Can you get back through?" he asked Heather.

She nodded. "Already have, to report success. Though we're trying to keep trips to a minimum."

"Wise of you. But why not simply pick up your captives and go?"

Heather grimaced impatiently, the same expression he'd seen cross Potter's face far too often. "Mysteries is being extra-cautious - some blather about balancing the energies. We're letting them argue it out."

"And, come on, a chance to talk to doubles from another world?" Potter interjected cheerfully. "Not an opportunity to miss."

Severus sighed. "As if your ego wasn't large enough already, Potter."

The boy grinned at him, unoffended, and a wistful expression crossed Heather's face, almost too quickly for Severus to catch.

"What have they told you about me?" he asked coolly. Her opinion of him mattered not at all, he told himself, but he couldn't help bracing himself as she drew breath to speak.

"That you were a Death Eater and a spy for Dumbledore, that you saved Harry's life many times. That you almost died." Her glance dipped to his throat, hidden beneath his high collar, and for the _n_th time he blessed his longstanding habit of wearing concealing clothing.

"Yes. I gave the Dark Lord the prophecy that led him to target Potter. The…result…led me to, ah, switch sides." He waited for censure, but it didn't come.

"In my, our, world, Wormtail told him the prophecy. You…well, you never became a Death Eater." Heather's gaze dropped to Severus' left arm, but seemed only curious.

"And died. Which leaves me to wonder just how essential I actually was to the fight," Severus said thoughtfully. Harry drew in a protesting breath, and Severus waved him off. "It's not a line of questioning I care to pursue, Potter, calm yourself. _My_ ego has no need of it."

That made both young people smirk, and Severus felt his lips twitch in amusement. Harry had become a lot more tolerable upon reaching adulthood, though a large part of that was because they so rarely saw each other; Heather was undoubtedly the same. Severus eyed her with a new intensity. "Gryffindor or Slytherin?"

Heather glanced at Potter. "Gryffindor. But it was almost Slytherin."

"Ah." Severus sighed in sudden, absurd regret, and Heather laughed.

"I wanted Slytherin, actually, because of you. But the Sorting Hat warned me I had better choose the other."

"What did it say?" Potter asked interestedly, but Severus lost her answer beneath his own stunned amazement. She had _wanted_ Slytherin?

Because of h - of her father?

What would she have become, in Slytherin? he wondered. And what would Slytherin have become, through her?

"Who was the Head of Slytherin when you were at Hogwarts?" Severus asked.

"Professor Sinistra. Bit absent-minded really, but she did a good job," Heather answered. "She was really broken up when Draco - well." Her gaze sharpened, fixing on Severus once more. "You saved him too, didn't you? Draco, I mean."

"It was on Dumbledore's orders," Severus replied stiffly. The idea of taking any sort of credit for that night was horrifying.

"He didn't survive the battle at Hogwarts, in my world," Heather said. "He marched in with Voldemort, but someone got him during the fight."

It was strange to think of Draco, perennially undecided, as being so determined. His parents…how had they reacted? Or perhaps they had lost their lives as well…

Every revelation spawned more questions. The ones he most desired to ask could not be answered by Heather, Severus knew; they could be answered by no one.

_What was it like, our time together, Lily and I? Did I make her happy? Were we content? Did she regret anything? _

"I meant to ask," Harry said slowly. "James Potter…"

Heather gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry - I know he was one of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix, but he died when Voldemort first rose. I can't remember how."

The small malicious voice in the back of Severus' head all but cheered. Disgusted with himself, Severus pushed to his feet, suddenly out of patience with the questions, the impossibilities. "You will excuse me."

As he strode towards the door, he heard Potter behind him, speaking consolingly to Heather. "Don't mind it, he's just like that."

Ashamed, but not enough to turn back, Severus left the house.

He didn't go far; just out into the grounds. Narcissa loved gardens, and supervised the maintenance of several - including, Severus remembered, a rather diabolical hedge maze. _What a pity we couldn't have sent dear Bella to chase her tail in there._ No one had actually _died_, the last time, but there was a reason Narcissa kept healing potions in the gardening shed.

He hadn't realised how late it was until he saw the position of the stars overhead. The manor was still alive with activity, people moving from room to lit room, but outside the dark and quiet were soothing.

Rudeness was nothing new for him, but it felt worse to behave so towards his - _She's __**not**__ my daughter. She's a grown witch from a different world, and the man who sired her died two decades ago._

Severus paced through the knot garden, around and around, trying to settle. He hadn't had enough time to assimilate, that was what it was; the thought of that other-worldly relationship still brought on a wave of anger, jealousy, and thin, undeniable joy, and the strength of the emotions was almost nauseating.

_When was the last time you felt this much?_

He could remember that precisely. It was the overwhelming relief of what should have been his last moments of life - of knowing that he hadn't failed after all, and that he was _finished_. Even his bitter waking later had been dull in comparison.

He was out of practice in control, after a mere two years.

Severus wondered what exactly Potter was telling Heather. Maybe explaining just why he was still alive - he wanted to blame the boy for that, but technically it hadn't been Potter's fault, exactly. The Resurrection Stone hadn't come with instructions, and if Severus had been in the boy's memory along with his other dead, well, it was to be expected after what had gone on that night. Severus could object to being returned to his damaged body, but no one could explain why he'd been the exception to the rule.

He was sure Heather would want to know more. Anyone would. He just didn't wish to supply details.

There was no need to talk to the young woman again, Severus decided. Questions on either side were merely prurient curiosity, and in any case all those who'd come through the mirror would be returning within a day or so.

He would find Robards, provide whatever report the Auror demanded, and return to his own -

An explosion of light and a shattering _boom_ had Severus spinning back towards the manor, wand out and ready. A cloud of flame was expanding out of a corner of the building's first floor as if someone had set off a Muggle bomb within.

Severus cursed, and exercised another skill he'd let lie dormant; he rose from the ground and flew towards the house, choosing speed over discretion.

It wasn't the sea of chaos he anticipated; people were running around, but with purpose, and several wands were already directing water and fire-suppressant magic towards the flames. He joined their efforts, though the fire fought them; magical in origin, clearly.

"What happened?" he shouted to one of the Sally Budges, straining to make himself heard over the roar of the fire.

She shrugged, squinting against the light and the ash. "I don't know - but that's the room where we were keeping Lestrange."

Severus winced. "Did she escape?"

All he got was another shrug. He thought about leaving the fire behind to run a search, but - _It's Robards' problem. _It would be foolish to plunge off alone into the dark when he didn't even know if there was anything to hunt; anyone going after Bellatrix should have at least two partners. Severus knew he was pretty much a match for her in power and experience, but her madness gave her an unpredictability that could be deadly.

The fire was starting to die back. Severus couldn't be sure, but it looked as though it had been confined mostly to the one room; the architect who had laid the basic house-wards had done a good job.

Robards himself materialised out of the smoke, coughing a little. "Keep at it, people," he called, then waved at Severus. "Would you come with me, Snape?"

Severus walked with him around the side of the house. Near the front doors was a huddle of people, Ottlo and Narcissa among them, but Severus didn't see Draco, or Potter or his counterpart. Robards coughed again.

"What happened?" Severus repeated, summoning two cups of water without really thinking about it, and handing one to Robards.

Robards took a long gulp; his face was streaked with soot. "We're not sure. But it looks like Lestrange blew herself up. Took Greaves and two of their folks with her, too." His expression was mingled rage and sorrow.

"Blew herself up," Severus repeated, a little stunned. Final-strike spells were not unknown, but he wouldn't have thought Bellatrix the type to learn one - and the sheer power needed to perform one made doing so without a wand nearly impossible. "Someone was asinine enough to give her a wand?"

Robards' fist tightened on the cup. "According to one of their people, she actually _bit_ Greaves on the arm until he dropped his, then grabbed it. With her mouth." He grimaced, half a snarl. "And now I will have to explain it to Shacklebolt, and Greaves' family."

Severus shook his head. _Unpredictable to the end._

Robards drained the cup and made it vanish. "Anyway, Ottlo's our mediwitch as well as our curse-breaker, and she says she could use some potions she doesn't have on hand - we weren't expecting fire and explosions, it's like American telly."

Severus knew what a television was - Lily's family had owned one - but it was unusual to hear a high-ranking Auror admit to knowing something so Muggle. "I can help, certainly; I have a good supply at home."

Robards nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Talk to her then. Must get back to this."

Severus obeyed. The next few hours were spent in Apparating back and forth between his house and the manor, fetching potions and pausing in his lab to concoct a few more. Fortunately those intended to heal smoke inhalation were quick to make, if not simple.

When Ottlo needed him no more, he found a comfortable chair in the mansion's main hall - the building had been declared safe to reenter - and closed his eyes for a few minutes' rest.

He didn't think he'd been asleep long when the murmur of voices brought him out of his doze. Severus couldn't bring himself to move; he was relaxed and comfortable and still quite tired.

And eavesdropping was still one of the best ways to both protect oneself and pick up information.

The voices were similar, hers a little lower-pitched than one might expect from a woman but not unpleasant.

"…lost a lot more than we did," Harry was saying. "I thought ours was bad."

A sigh; Heather's. "And we thought we got off lucky. Though losing Professor McGonagall - I don't know how Hogwarts goes on without her."

"George is dead too?"

"More like already. He died when the Order came to get me from home. Fred…I don't think he _wanted_ to live after that, you know?"

"Yeah. George's not the same; it's sad." A clink, as of ceramic against a table - tea probably. "Ginny, though?"

Heather laughed quietly. "Oh, she's fine. She's going to work me over for this stunt when I get home, but ask me if I care."

Harry choked. "You mean - you and Ginny - "

Her laugh this time was louder. "Come on, you should have expected it by now! I did."

"But - she's - in your world, she's a - "

"Well, bi, really, but she says she prefers snogging girls. Stop that!" A soft _thwap_ indicated an arm-smack. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Sorry, sorry! It's just…bloody hell, now I'm going to _wonder_."

"So ask her when you get home. It's not like you've got anything to be afraid of."

Severus, amused, kept his breathing steady. "I still can't get over them leaving you like that for eleven years," Heather went on, apparently continuing a previous conversation. "I mean, the _Dursleys,_ ugh!"

"It had to do with Mum's protection," Harry replied, voice dropping. "'Sides, where else was I going to go? Sirius was in Azkaban."

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot. I got the better end of it that way - growing up at Hogwarts was like having a dozen aunts and uncles who all wanted to spoil me."

Severus didn't let his frown show. Heather had grown up at Hogwarts? Why? Had Albus adopted -

"Mum had the worst time keeping me from turning into a brat," Heather went on blithely. "She swears that the only thing that saved me was Filch."

He couldn't _breathe_. Severus held very, very still, part of him trying to deny what he'd just heard and the rest of him stunned beyond words.

_Lily is __**alive**__? _

"I wish I could see her," Potter was saying wistfully.

"I think she'd like to meet you, but they're not letting anyone through just now," Heather answered, unaware of turning Severus' life upside down for the second time in one night. "But, you know - "

Severus found himself on his feet, closing the gap between his chair and theirs without noticing the movement. Both of them gaped up at him, startled.

"Your mother," he started, and had to swallow - his voice had come out strangled. "Your mother is still alive?"

His fists were clenched so tightly that his tendons ached. Heather blinked at him. "Yes, of course. She's the Potions Mistress at Hogwarts."

He felt his knees buckle. Harry sprang up, eyes still wide, and grabbed his arm, lowering Severus into the chair he'd just vacated. Severus bent over, hiding his face in his hands, trying desperately for control and not finding it. _Lily - __**Lily**__ - _

A hand touched his knee and then withdrew. "S-sir - I'm sorry. I didn't realise - "

Severus forced himself towards calm, inhaling and exhaling on a slow rhythm for almost a minute before lifting his head and infusing his voice with venom. "You didn't think to mention this fact, Potter?"

"It didn't come up until after you'd run out, _sir,_" Harry returned, frowning back. "If you'd stuck around for the rest of the conversation - "

Severus cut him off with one sharp gesture and looked straight at Heather. She met his gaze without flinching, her expression mingled uneasiness and guilt, and a guilt of his own flared up as he saw it. Driven by the almost unfamiliar need to ease her distress, and where the hell had _that_ come from, he straightened. "Miss - Heather, I apologise. I didn't expect…"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. It never occurred to me that it would matter to you, not until Harry explained, and even then - " She glanced away, cheeks flushing again.

Severus licked his lips, and phrased his question very carefully. "How did your mother survive? Here, Voldemort slew them both."

"She wasn't home." The simple answer astonished him. "She was out for a walk; she says you, um, they had a row and she went out to cool off. This - " Heather touched the scar on her forehead. "This was you, protecting me."

It was beyond comprehension, the picture she painted with her words. Not that he would have placed his body, his life, between his daughter and mortal peril; but that he, even this other, unsullied self, could have felt a love strong enough and pure enough to turn Voldemort's worst curse.

Harry muttered something and strode rapidly away. Severus gripped the arms of the chair, struggling to take in the two hard facts - Lily lived, and his other self had died to save his child.

Heather's gaze flicked up and away for a moment before returning to him. "Harry's fetching tea," she told him. "Look, I really am sorry. Harry said most of it wasn't his story to tell, and I - "

Severus managed to raise one hand. "It's not your fault." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. "I had assumed that events were more parallel."

Heather didn't reply. A moment later footsteps approached, and Severus opened his eyes to see a mug of tea in front of them. He reached up and took it. "I apologise for my harsh words, Mr. Potter," he said formally.

Harry shrugged easily, grabbing another vacant chair and pulling it over to sit in. "It's been a long night for everybody."

The tea was only just above warm and loaded with sugar, and Severus drank it quickly. The leaf-green eyes, both sets, were fixed on him, and it was making him nervous. _I have no answers for you. _

Before he finished, though, he heard Robards' shout from the other side of the room, and the two of them exchanged glances and stood to answer the summons. Severus watched them go, setting aside his tea and rising himself. He was exhausted, grimy beyond what a cleansing charm could do, and suddenly very hungry.

The two young heroes disappeared upstairs on some mission, and Severus intercepted Robards, who looked even more tired.

"What are you still doing here, Snape? Go home," the Auror said, his voice still a little strained from the smoke. "You've been invaluable, but for pity's sake go sleep in your own bed. The Office will contact you for a report in a day or two."

"Wonderful," Severus said sarcastically, and Robards gave him half a grin. "Where's Draco?"

"Ottlo put him to sleep two hours ago - the poor lad hadn't shut his eyes since Lestrange broke in here. That's enough to give anyone nightmares, I suppose."

"No doubt." Severus abandoned the half-formed notion of saying goodbye to Draco, and with a nod to Robards, Disapparated for home.

**xxxx**

He didn't know why he didn't expect it. She had never been shy, or unable to reach for what she wanted. But two days after Severus had returned to his quiet routine of potions and books, he had convinced himself that the strange days at Malfoy Manor were over, done, behind him...no matter how he couldn't sleep, or stop thinking from wearing grooves in his mind.

So the woman standing in front of his house when he returned from a twilight walk was both a surprise and an utter familiarity. He remembered precisely the angle at which she carried her shoulders; the sight of her dropped his stomach into some endless pit, and for an instant he considered backing away and vanishing into the darkness.

But that was cowardly.

So he kept walking, his steps precise, watching as she looked up at his house, and when he was close he had to clench his jaw before he could speak.

"Lily."

She turned, a slender figure in light summer robes, hair pulled back, and his stony heart all but cracked at the simple grace of her. The smile that spread across her face hurt him, an actual physical ache, because he could remember every time she had given it to him.

Every single time.

"Sev." For an instant, he thought she was going to hold out her hands to him, but fortunately for his composure she didn't. For an instant, he thought the sound of his name on her lips was going to kill him. "It's good to see you."

"You shouldn't have come." He kept his voice cold, but he'd only ever managed to make her take offence once, and she just kept smiling at him.

"Probably not. But what's the good of being the mother of the Girl Who Lived and the former teacher of most of the Auror Office if I can't abuse the power once in a while?"

Severus shook his head, feeling as if it were filled with sand. Hunger was roaring up inside him, loud enough to deafen. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," Lily said cheerfully. "Are you going to ask me in anyway?"

He didn't want to. But he had never been able to refuse her. And his parched soul was so dreadfully eager, so anxious to be near her.

Severus put out a hand and swung his dilapidated gate open.

Lily slipped through, looking back up at the shabby house. "I'm a little surprised to find you here," she said as they walked to the front door. "You always hated this place."

"I spent very little time here," Severus replied, opening the door as well and letting her step past him. "It never seemed worth the bother to move." _I never planned to live long enough to need to._

Lily made a small _tsk_ing noise, a gentle tease. As she moved into the light of his front room, Severus could see the changes time had wrought in her familiar form - grey threads in the red-gold hair, a maturity in the fine-boned face that the Lily of his world had never had the time to achieve. She was wholly a woman, not still half a girl; settled and confident.

He did not invite her to sit. Lily merely folded her arms and looked back at him, still with that little smile, and Severus had to fist his hands to keep from touching her. _She's not your Lily. She never was._

"Why are you here?" he asked at last.

"Because I wanted to see you," she said, as direct as ever.

Severus shook his head. "Whoever - he - was, I am not he."

"No, you aren't," Lily agreed. "And yet, in one sense, you are." She pursed her lips, an old thoughtful gesture. "Call it a guilty pleasure."

In that moment he saw past the fact of her presence to the sorrow behind her eyes, and the yearning. Severus had to turn away, caught between knowing that she still missed his counterpart and knowing that he could not meet her need. "It's foolish."

"Perhaps." He heard her sigh. "But Heather told me…a little. Can you understand? I loved my husband with all my heart. I couldn't miss the chance to see him again, even just once."

His nails were digging into his palms, the bite just enough of a distraction for him to maintain control. "I understand too well," he said, barely forcing his voice past a whisper. "I lived my life in your name, Lily, even though I had nothing of you. I spent it all to atone, and I know it will never be enough."

All the fragile, hard-won peace of the last two years was melting away, leaving him on the bitter edge of regret once more. _Why didn't I die? I was __**finished**__. I should never have come to this - _

The touch of a hand on his shoulder had him flinching away like a startled cat. When he turned, Lily was looking at him with no trace of a smile. "I'm not her," she said softly.

He tried to keep back the words, but they would be heard. "And yet…you are." The Lily who could have been, the Lily he'd most desired. Alive, but as far beyond his reach as the day he'd crushed their friendship with a word.

Oh yes, he understood.

"I'm not he," Severus repeated. "I am stained beyond what you can imagine; I've done things you would spit on. Things that cannot be forgiven. Go back to your world, Lily, and be grateful that I...that he died there before he ever came to this." The last words were scarcely more than a whisper.

Lily bit her lip. "Sev - "

He turned his back once more. "Go. Please."

For once, she didn't argue. There was only the tap of feet across the floor, and an agonisingly long pause between the click of the door opening and the sound of her voice. "Forgiveness isn't up to you, Sev."

The door thudded shut.

He couldn't see. He could do nothing but feel, and all the world was pain.

**xxxx**

Later came anger, and he sat in his dusty library and seethed. _How can you say that?_ he raged silently at her. _You have no idea what I've done._ She only saw him as the hero Potter's gratitude and Heather's wishes painted him. She didn't know what he'd been, what sins he'd committed. _You would never look at me again, if you knew._

_So show her,_ suggested the small maliciousness.

Perhaps this was his last penance.

Slowly, he rose; the room was cold and his muscles ached. A whispered word had the fire flaring enough for Severus to find the bowl on the shelf, heavy and cool when he lifted it. He blew out the dust and set it on the table.

There was so much there, and so much of it foul. _Just begin at the start._

It was a long time before he lifted his wand.

_The first time he opened the book of Dark spells, and the surge of curiosity and, yes, pleasure. Here was power; here was protection from fear, from ridicule, from his father's fists and his mother's anger - _

_The first night in the Slytherin common room, hearing the older ones speak casually of lineage and wealth and status. Knowing the first could not be his, but that the rest might be within his grasp. _

_Suffering under the lash of ridicule for his shabby clothes, his ugly face. Things were supposed to be better at Hogwarts, and yet the bullies were the same, the cruelties as stinging. Dark magic would give him a means to fight back, to __**win**__ - _

_Trying desperately to hide his need for affection and approval; joining the ones who supported the Dark Lord, because they welcomed him and made him one of them. _

_Talking, discussing, arguing with like-minded people, all of them striving for the same ambitious goal. One leading them, dangerous and charismatic, promising them the power they craved. Promising __**him**__. If he could not have Lily's brilliant light, her tender warmth, he would have this at least. _

_Kneeling, bowing his head, extending his arm. White-hot agony, acid tendrils wrapping around his soul, giving up his will to bondage. Freely. _

_A night spent in anguish and dangerous fury; the night of Lily's wedding. _

_Acts of terror, of wanton cruelty. Anything to further the Dark Lord's plans, to prove his own loyalty and worth. Anything. _

_Until Voldemort's eyes lit at a scrap of prophecy, and horror swamped him at what he'd done. _

_Begging, abasing himself, pleading for Lily's life. Seeing the Dark Lord's pleasure in his grovelling. _

_Turning his back on his master in wild desperation, betraying all that gave his life meaning, in hopes of saving her. Binding himself again, this time with words instead of magic. And all of it useless, __**useless**__ - _

_Keeping his promises - all of them, though they were ashes in his mouth. Hating himself for betraying all that the Dark Lord had made him, hating what he did in the Dark Lord's name, walking an endless, dreary path between two masters with Death ravening on either side. Drawing back from friend and foe alike, lest he slip somehow and make the betrayal worse. _

_Lily's son. Every sight of him was a reminder of loss, a memory of cruelty. And yet he would not give up, the stubborn child, despite the impossibility of his task - _

_Saving Harry, again and again, for the memory of a smile and brilliant green eyes. For love. _

_Betrayed again, by an old man's scheming. Killing someone he'd considered a friend. Trying to protect the children - the children - _

_Thinking he'd failed, after all the years of toil. And then just one quiet miracle, one last chance to keep his promises. _

_Rest denied. Peace withheld. Nothing left but empty days and silent nights, without purpose. Without anything that made life worth keeping. _

Severus opened his eyes. His anger was gone; there was nothing left but bitter anguish. The bowl was almost full of silver-blue threads, swirling silently together, but there was still room.

Because she was Lily, and he loved, he added the rest.

_The first time she hugged him, thin arms tight around his neck and then gone, leaving him speechless at such careless affection. _

_Finding a friend beyond all expecting, even though she had everything and he nothing. _

_The way her friendship gave him strength, how her shoulder next to his could take the sting from the taunts and the slurs. _

_Torn between her laughing light and the seductive draw of darkness. _

_The panicked horror he felt the instant after he spat that damnable epithet, more unforgivable than any curse he would ever speak. _

_Utter despair as she vanished back through the portrait, leaving his apologies lying in the dust. _

_Her lifeless body in his arms - still warm, unmarked - if only he could die too - _

_Her son, James' son, a boy he dared not befriend and could not love. But he was all that was left of her. _

_All the years of keeping promises spoken to Dumbledore, but made to her. _

_Seeing anguish in the boy's eyes, and wondering how Harry could care at all. Letting go at last, reaching for oblivion, and under it the tiny shamed hope that he might see her one last time… _

Despite the way they filled the bowl, the copied memories fit into a small flask quite well. Severus summoned an owl and tied the vial carefully to its leg, sending it on its way with a murmured instruction.

He put the bowl away, closed the window, and sat down again. And did not move.


	4. Chapter 4

**The characters and situations in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. **

**Yeah, okay. Let me state first that I am new to this fandom and do not possess the proper encyclopediac knowledge thereof. This story stems from my muse being a perverse nonentity. I have had the invaluable assistance of two editors, but I probably slipped up more than once. **

**Speaking of, ****Cincoflex**** - as always - is my rock and enthusiastic supporter, and helped me straighten this thing out repeatedly, and put up with my going crazy(er) for most of January. ****Trialia**** generously Britpicked the manuscript with consummate attention to detail. Occasionally I ignored their excellent advice, so don't blame them. **

**Finally - last warning - with a fandom this enormous, I must assume that everything has been done already. The only excuse I have is that I haven't read it. Any unoriginality is completely accidental. **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Another owl showed up at evening the next day, waking Severus from a restless doze with its irritated hooting. It carried both a vial and a sealed letter, and he eyed the tiny bottle as if it contained a poison more deadly than any he could concoct, but finally he removed both and provided a dried mouse before letting the bird go.

The letter was from Potter, and said, bafflingly, _The deadline is sunset tomorrow. _

The scrap of parchment tied to the flask's neck was large enough for only one word: _Please._ It was Lily's script.

It was three more hours before he gave in and fetched the bowl once more.

_A skinny boy with dark hair and dark eyes, smiling shyly, as if he knew a delightful secret and was about to share it with her. _

_Knowing there was something wrong with his family, but unable to imagine beyond the yelling she occasionally heard. _

_Getting her Hogwarts letter, and feeling a secret relief that she wouldn't be going alone. _

_Welcomed with open arms into Gryffindor, but swallowing a pang at being separated from Sev. _

_Learning together; playing together; comparing notes, arguing questions, finding out that they both had a true talent for Potions. _

_Starting to worry when Sev found friends among the nastier sorts in Slytherin, though he always left them behind when she wanted him. _

_Growing; making friends; devising ways to deal with the boyish attentions of her peers. Finding James Potter to be an unsettling mix of attractive and repulsive. Finding, to her dismay, that Sev was the same way, but for different reasons. _

_Losing him, slowly but surely, to his horrible friends; watching him turn darker and nastier, and not knowing how to stop it. _

_The icy fury when he turned on her, the terrible hurt at his epithet. Walking away was easy. _

_Finding him outside the portrait that night, more miserable than she'd ever seen him. Too angry to accept his apologies, too wise to think he was sorry for anything but making her angry. Telling him why she was through. Taking one last look at her oldest friend before turning away - _

_- his hand on her sleeve - "I'll change. I can, I will, I'll not be friends with them any longer, Lily, __**please**__!" - _

_- turning back slowly, gripping his wrist - "Promise?" _

_The first time she kissed him, tentative but not shy, and his hesitant, gentle response. The second kiss was a good deal more enthusiastic… _

_Together again. Walking in twilight, arguing and making up, sitting their NEWTs, playing pranks on Gryffindor and Slytherin alike. Making plans. Making promises. Making love. _

_A wizarding marriage. Both of them apprenticing to old Slughorn. Looking forward to the day when Lily would take over the professor's position and Sev could begin his own potions business. _

_The first moment when she learned she was pregnant; breathless with sudden miracle. _

_The look on Sev's face when she put their daughter in his arms, and her peal of laughter at his astonishment. _

" _- Somebody has to, Lily. We need to understand the Dark Arts, because You-Know-Who certainly does, and we will need to know how to defend ourselves." _

"_It's too dangerous, Order or not! I don't like it, you know you like them too much - "_

"_Dumbledore asked me to!" _

"_Dumbledore asks too much! Practicing the Dark Arts, with a baby in the house? Are you both mad?" _

"_I would never risk Heather, you know that - " _

_Taking a walk to cool off; slowly admitting that Sev was right, that they needed to know what they were up against. Smiling ruefully as she realised she would have to apologise. _

_Finding the front door blown off its hinges, scorch marks on the walls - she tore up the stairs, Heather was wailing in the dark - falling over something soft and heavy on the floor - _

_- __**Sev**__ - _

_Agony and guilt and terrible, terrible loss. His skin cold to her touch, gone beyond all recalling. Gone with her angry words in his ears. _

_Days, weeks, months of greyness. Wondering if she could have saved him, if only she hadn't walked away. Going through the motions because Heather needed her. Knowing that it was only Heather who kept the breath in her body. _

_Her child - his child - the only one who could draw a smile from her. Finishing her apprenticeship, beginning to teach, grateful that the bastion of Hogwarts kept away those curious about the Girl Who Lived. _

_Watching her daughter grow. Seeing Sev's beloved features refined in Heather's face. Weeping, sometimes, when she brushed her daughter's hair, because it was his, so soft and straight - _

_Proud of her girl, whose talents matched her parents'. Deeply worried as Heather began formal classes at Hogwarts, as rumours of the Dark Lord began to build. _

_Seven years of horrors and triumphs. Of learning to let Heather become what she needed to be, even if it meant unspeakable danger. And always, always being alone. _

_Defending Hogwarts in the last battle; seeing friends and colleagues fall on every side. The bitter, screaming anguish of Heather's death; the incredulous joy of her resurrection. _

_Peace. And no one to share it with. _

The last memory was much fresher.

_Lily's arm resting on a table as she wrote a letter, her fingers brushing back her hair where it fell across her face. The words spilling from her quill were quite clear. _

_Sev - _

_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. _

_It was impulse, coming to see you, but I refuse to believe it was a bad one. I know that I am not the Lily you knew and loved, any more than you are the Severus I loved and married. _

_But we are the same people - not twins, not doppelgängers. Just the same people who made different choices. _

_Nothing you showed me is beyond forgiveness. Harry told me a little, Heather told me a bit more, but your memories were no less biased than their stories. Yes, you did terrible things. But you did wonderful ones as well. And you feel remorse, Sev. Wasn't that what Voldemort refused? _

_Unlike him, you still have your soul. _

_Sev, my husband has been dead for almost twenty years, and I miss him desperately every day. You are so hungry for your Lily that you cannot bear my touch. Why should we both go on alone? Why can't we make new choices? _

_Come to me. The Unspeakables want to send a prisoner through the mirror, someone from Azkaban to balance the loss of energy to our world from Bellatrix's death. But they will accept you instead. Trust me; between the children and my own influence, they will not deny you. _

_Come to me, and we can discover whether we can find happiness again - no, not again. Anew. _

_I know it's outrageous - why should you give up your whole life, your __**world**__, for such a chance? _

_But I think you do know why. _

_She signed the letter, her name an elegant set of curves - _

When he came back to himself, it was past midnight and the fire had all but died away.

Severus hadn't thought it was possible to feel this way, to suffer like this - it was if Lily were newly dead. _What torment is Hell without a glimpse of Heaven?_

He wanted to accept. As insane as the idea was, he wanted it with every cell in his body. She was right; the chance was enough.

But he couldn't. He simply could not. _You may have forgiven me, Lily, but I cannot forgive myself. _

Eventually thirst drove him to stir, and once he'd given in to that need, habit and his body prodded him to wash and eat. And then it was easier, one metaphorical foot in front of the other. He was hollowed out, so empty a strong wind might carry him off.

And finally he let the wind take him, soaring up and out of his narrow house into the night sky, looking for solace without having any idea where to find it.

It was a complete surprise to find himself landing heavily on the Astronomy tower.

The moon was half-full; the castle below him was hardly more than vague shapes. Severus let his feet hang over the edge and leaned against the cool stone, unable to still his thoughts. _I am so tired. _

At least an hour passed before he heard someone coming up the stairs. Light steps, slow; Minerva.

He waited until she was standing beside him before he spoke. "I'm not even certain how I got here."

Her laugh was familiar. "Once a Headmaster, always a Headmaster," she suggested. "Hogwarts knows you."

"It's possible." He gestured to the other side of the window opening, and Minerva eased herself down to the stone. He cast a surreptitious warming charm so she wouldn't chill.

They watched the stars wheel overhead for a while. "It's not that I'm not glad to see you, mind," Minerva said at last. "But why are you here, Severus?"

His long habit of privacy was in abeyance, it seemed. Or perhaps he was just too weary. "You won't believe it."

There was just light enough to see her knowing smile. "Try me."

He didn't tell her the whole story, merely outlined it in a few crisp sentences. She listened silently, lips pursed thoughtfully.

"That sounds like Lily," she said when he was finished.

He raised a brow. "What, you don't think I've run mad at last?"

Minerva snickered. "Remind me to tell you about the Great Sheep Window of Ballyvolane and what came of it, if you think that's a mad story. Magic has a way of confounding expectations, and at my age one simply learns to accept it."

Severus snorted. Minerva shook her head at him and continued. "You're going, of course."

He settled his shoulders more comfortably against the stone, almost cheered by the opportunity to argue. "I am not."

That won him a look of outrage. "Severus, why not? Oh, don't give me that glare. I know you're miserable."

Her words stung somehow, separate from the pain behind his breastbone. "Because I cannot. Leaving aside the fact that the idea is preposterous, I - " His throat closed. Saying _I am not worthy_ was ridiculously theatrical, but he couldn't think how else to phrase it. "It wouldn't work."

"Possibly," she agreed dryly. "But then again, perhaps it might."

"Minerva - " He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "You know what I've done. What I _am_. I'm broken beyond repair. How could I - how could _she_ even contemplate - "

"Spare me your ego, Severus," Minerva snapped. "You always were one to see the worst in anything, even yourself."

He snorted. "Call it experience."

Her sniff was an eloquent rebuttal, shorthand for a hundred familiar debates, and they lapsed into silence.

After a while Minerva spoke again, thoughtfully. "Do you realise you have spent almost half your life in atonement?"

Severus glanced over at her, startled, and she gave him the sharp look she used on recalcitrant third-years. "When will it be _enough_?"

"Never," he riposted, though suddenly it sounded absurd. "I've drained myself dry, but for one such as I there is no mercy."

"No, I don't think you have," she said slowly. Her hair was coming loose from her night-time braid, wisping in the cool air. It made her look softer. "You have one more thing to sacrifice."

"What?" he asked, voice ragged with pain. "I've given everything, Minerva, even my life, even my _death_. My love, my youth, my loyalty. What have I left?"

Her answer was blunt. "Your guilt, Severus."

The words seemed to stop him, hold him suspended over a yawning gulf. A weird panic crawled up his spine. "I don't understand."

Minerva ignored the chill in his words. "I can't begin to understand what you've gone through. But holding on to pain just to feel something? That I do know." She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and met his gaze gravely. "Your guilt, your pain. That is your last sacrifice. Give them up, and take the happiness that's offered."

"I - I can't." He swallowed, somehow afraid. "Weren't you listening? I don't deserve it."

She chuckled, a sad sound. "Since when has deserving had anything to do with love? If the girl wants you as you are, you have no grounds to argue, you know."

It was strange to realise that he had no answer to that. He blinked, and looked back out over the shadowy world.

The stars slid slowly on, and Hogwarts slept beneath them, waiting for autumn and its children. Slowly, one by one, the whirling, raging thoughts in his head began to subside, leaving a peculiar stillness in their place.

_No grounds to argue._ Lily knew him now, knew the very worst of him. And yet she'd sent him the memories and her invitation -

It felt as if his very bones were shifting within him, moving towards a configuration he couldn't begin to guess at. It was terrifying, and exhilarating.

Minerva grumbled. "Severus, much as I hate to interrupt your contemplations, my old joints are demanding something softer than stone."

Severus breathed out, and rose hastily to help her stand. She raised her brows at him, voice tart. "I don't suppose you'll come inside and have a cup of tea like a civilised person."

"Minerva." He had every intention of arguing further, but the volition melted away. What came out of his mouth instead was "I will miss you."

She reached up to touch his cheek, withered fingers soft, and in astonishment at his own words he allowed it. Her eyes were wet, but her smile was warm, and understanding. "And I you, Severus. I will miss you too."

**xxxx**

He didn't know where his resistance had gone, only that it had. The absence of pain was like a drugging potion, leaving him lightheaded, and Severus was especially careful when he Apparated home, lest it distract him into some fatal error.

There were a hundred objections, a thousand complications, but for the moment they didn't matter. The need for sleep was alleviated, if temporarily, with an elixir from his stores. Severus made himself tea that he forgot to taste when he drank it, and began.

He didn't take everything, of course. Even an extension charm had its limits. But the rarer ingredients and the more precious books all fit neatly into his pockets, along with a few essentials and trifles.

The small malicious voice was mocking him, telling him that this was nothing but a cruel dream, and he would wake to find it all dust. He ignored it.

He locked the door behind him at mid-afternoon, but left the wards down. There was a certain exhilaration in knowing that he would not be returning.

Draco was waiting when Severus appeared at Malfoy Manor, looking much better than he had a few days prior. "How is your mother?" Severus asked as they walked into the house.

"Recovering." Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. "She's very conscious of the debt we owe you."

And so was Draco, Severus imagined. He shook his head. "It's immaterial. Though I'm glad she is better."

Draco was silent until they approached the stairs to the cellar, and then the words all but burst from him. "Have you gone mad?"

"Quite possibly." Severus startled Draco with a small smile. "I find I don't care."

Draco huffed. "Potter and his weird little double were convinced you'd show up; I thought _they_ were mad. But - "

He trailed off, and stopped outside the first concealed room. Severus knew why he'd fallen silent; there really weren't words for this circumstance.

"Good luck," Draco said finally. Severus inclined his head.

"And to you," he replied, and stepped through the door.

There was only one more ordeal to face; Potter was waiting next to the mirror, leaning against the wall. It seemed the boy had learned not to fidget, at least; his glasses flashed back light as he looked up.

For the first time, the sight of him didn't hurt. That quick grin spread across Potter's face - his father's smile, but without malice. "Brilliant. Draco owes me a Galleon."

Severus snorted. "You have no more sense than you ever had. That was an unwise bet."

"Yes, but I won," Potter pointed out cheerfully, then sobered a little. "You do realise this is one-way, right? Unspeakable Witters is upstairs guzzling Malfoy's tea, but as soon as you're through he's going to destroy the mirror."

"I should hope so. It should not exist in the first place." The mirror looked as it had the first time he'd seen it - serenely reflecting the room but not the people in it. He wondered abruptly if the room on the other side was a double of the one he was standing in.

"All right then." Potter shrugged.

Severus stepped up to the mirror. He would indeed have to duck his head to pass through, and for an instant doubt assailed him. Would it even work for him?

He glanced to one side. Potter was watching; it was strange to think that this was the last time he would see the boy. Potter cocked his head, then deliberately gave him a tiny, respectful bow.

It seemed to be his day for it. Severus nodded back, and raised a hand to the glass. Despite its solid appearance, his hand passed through it as if through an illusion.

He lifted one foot high, and swung himself through.

The room on the other side _was_ a double. Severus expected to see Heather in Harry's place, but instead a tall blond man he didn't recognise was propped against the wall. Witters' other self, perhaps?

The man sighed. "Good, I wasn't looking forward to carting another lout to Azkaban. I expect you know where you're going?"

"I do," Severus replied, and Witters pushed himself upright.

"Even better. I might get home in time for tea tonight." He pulled out his wand, aiming it at the mirror, and Severus took himself out of the way, more amused than anything else by the man's casual demeanour.

Malfoy Manor looked much the same, except that it lacked the damage Bellatrix had caused on the first floor, and there was no one about. It had the air of an uninhabited building, and he wondered what had become of the elder Malfoys. Perhaps they, too, had died in the battle.

_I suppose I'll find out eventually._

The weather was just as it had been on his side of the mirror, a fine summer afternoon. Severus looked around as he stepped outside, but all seemed completely ordinary; without looking at the house's undamaged wing, there was no way to tell that it wasn't his world.

He knew where he was going. Severus took a deep breath, and Disapparated.

The little house in Godric's Hollow showed signs of both repair and expansion, but its lines were harmonious. The front garden was lush and well-kept, as befit the home of a potions mistress, and he could see the edge of a greenhouse in the back garden - exactly where he'd have put it himself. Lily's memory lingered in his mind, she falling in love with the village, he not caring where they lived as long as she was happy…

Severus walked up the front path without hurrying, myriad scents from the blooming plants mingling in his nose and the sun hot on his black-clad shoulders and the crown of his head. He wondered vaguely if Heather still lived with her mother, and raised his hand, rapping lightly on the door.

For a long, breathless moment everything seemed to hold still, as if Fate were waiting for the very last second to punish him for presumption. And then the door swung open, and Lily, towel in her hands, looked up at him and smiled.

_Perhaps I have died after all._

Lily flipped the towel over her shoulder and took his hands in hers. "Come in," she said, and drew him over the threshold.

It was like dreaming, like the ones he had dreamt long ago before drowning his soul in darkness. The house was cosy, thick with books, a little cluttered; it smelled like dust and tea and scones, with just a hint of the underlying bitter tang of a potions laboratory.

Severus found himself seated at the tiny kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him, and Lily sitting opposite, red hair catching fire in the sun coming through the window. He couldn't look away from her; it felt as if she would vanish if he so much as blinked.

"You look very fierce," she said, mouth quirking with humour. "Are you regretting your choice?"

He shook his head immediately. "No! I just - Lily, I would be content to sit on your doorstep and watch you go in and out. This feels like too much."

She set down her cup and raised her brows. "You need to raise your standards, Sev."

She was the only one who had ever called him that. At last he let himself truly _listen_ to his name in her mouth, and it made him shiver. "I don't know what to expect," he said helplessly. "I don't _have_ standards."

Lily smiled again, and he was transfixed by the sight. "Well, _I _know what I want. We'll figure it out as we go along; there's no need to hurry."

He nodded, and picked up his cup absently; the tea was just as he liked it, strong and only barely sweet, and it didn't surprise him that she had made it so.

Her long fingers rubbed idly at the wood-grain of the table-top. "Don't let me push you," she added. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Severus breathed out, amused. "Believe me; my standards for _discomfort_ are set high."

Lily's smile went rueful, and he remembered that she'd lived through his memories - some of the worst. Half of him regretted putting her through that, now, but the other half was guiltily grateful that he didn't have to try to explain.

"I promise I will tell you if you do," he said. She nodded, and somehow their free hands met across the table, clasping in a firm knot of fingers.

The rest of the day passed in a similar dream-like fashion. Lily showed him over the house, from the potions lab in the cellar to the little guest room she had prepared for him. Heather still had a room in the house, but was currently sharing a flat with her girlfriend, Lily told him, her expression a mix of pride and worry.

It was when she was leaving him to settle into the guest room that he caught a glimpse of _something_ in her face, something he couldn't quite identify but that left him with an ache in his gut. Severus put out a hand, not daring to touch her. "What is it?"

The corner of her mouth curled, but she didn't turn around, and her hand came up to swipe at her eyes. "It's nothing."

"It's not," he countered, alarmed. "Please, tell me."

She sighed, bowing her head. "I'm just - I was waiting, you see, and I…thought you weren't coming."

His heart did something painful and exquisite in his chest, and he couldn't help himself. Severus reached out and pulled her into his arms, against him, tighter and tighter. Her embrace was equally hard, her head fitting beneath his chin and the scent of her wrapping around him like a veil. Her breath was hot and ragged against his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut against their sudden burn. "Lily," he whispered, able to say it now - at last - without regret. "Lily."

Neither of them let go for a long, long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**The characters and situations in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. **

**Yeah, okay. Let me state first that I am new to this fandom and do not possess the proper encyclopediac knowledge thereof. This story stems from my muse being a perverse nonentity. I have had the invaluable assistance of two editors, but I probably slipped up more than once. **

**Speaking of, ****Cincoflex**** - as always - is my rock and enthusiastic supporter, and helped me straighten this thing out repeatedly, and put up with my going crazy(er) for most of January. ****Trialia**** generously Britpicked the manuscript with consummate attention to detail. Occasionally I ignored their excellent advice, so don't blame them. **

**Finally - last warning - with a fandom this enormous, I must assume that everything has been done already. The only excuse I have is that I haven't read it. Any unoriginality is completely accidental. **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

It was the first time in his life he had possessed no purpose, but Severus could not bring himself to worry about it yet. Waking in the guest bedroom the next morning felt like a dream, still, or heaven; there was still sorrow at the bottom of his soul, but it seemed almost absurd. He was _there_; Lily, her house, her world had not vanished while he was sleeping.

And when he found her in the kitchen, making tea and burning toast, her hair still a sleepy tangle, the impulse to cross the floor and take her into his arms was so strong that his resistance lasted only until she looked up and smiled at him. The joy in her face closed his throat, and her hug felt like water in the midst of thirst.

"Good morning," she said happily, and he smiled over her head.

"Yes. It is," he said, and she laughed.

The days were full of light, both the summer sun and Lily's own radiance. Severus was content to fit himself into her routine, reading and talking, watching her work in the cellar laboratory, taking over the cooking out of sheer self-preservation. He had known the Lily of his past very well; learning this present Lily was a task that absorbed almost all his attention.

And she learned him as well, far more patiently than she might have once; drawing stories from him with gentle questions, asking about teaching and experimenting and the little details that didn't hurt.

They moved slowly, carefully, taking their time. Each day was a gift, Severus felt, showering down on his undeserving head; but every smile Lily gave him was a sliver of confidence.

It was when they were shoulder to shoulder in the greenhouse, harvesting daisies, that she bumped his hip with hers in the midst of teasing him about his taste for black - an old, old jest between them. Looking down at her, there was only one thing for him to do.

Kissing Lily was thirty years of imagination swept aside in one warm, simple touch; it was the blessing of her response and the feel of her earth-gritted fingers curving around the back of his neck; it was unbearable _sweetness. _

And he could do it again.

**xxxx**

"Lily, are you certain?" He couldn't believe it, not really, not so soon, but here they were in her bedroom and it was _she_ who'd brought them there -

Her eyes gleamed up at him, that irresistible smile playing havoc with his heart and his control. "I wouldn't have kissed you like _that_ if I weren't. Aren't you?"

"Yes, but - " Her hands on his chest were fogging his thoughts; it was hard to form words around his objection.

"You weren't so hesitant the last first time, love."

He couldn't even resent the memory he didn't have. Truth was the only option. "I - this _is_ the first time."

She blinked, and then to his horror tears welled up in her eyes. "…Ohhh. Sev - "

He touched her cheeks, wiping the shining trails away frantically. "Don't, please - don't cry, I - " _I've spoiled it all somehow - _

She shook her head, and took his face in her own hands, her lips on his a caress that drugged him like a well-concocted potion. "It's all right, it's…shhh. It's all right. Better than. Come here." She drew him closer, and he glanced over her shoulder at the golden-glowing lamp.

"Not the light…please."

Her brow wrinkled, and he wanted to kiss that too. "Why not? I want to _see_ you."

He took a deep breath, conscious of the scars that marred his body, the way his ribs stuck out, but most of all of the hideous brand of the Dark Mark on his arm. "I…there are…Lily, you are so lovely, but I am not."

She raised her brows impatiently. "I'm an ageing woman who's birthed a baby. Sev, I don't _care._"

"I do. You should never have to see_mph - _" His words were cut off by her kiss, and he couldn't help the way his lips parted beneath hers, the wholehearted response of his body.

She let him go. "Stop it. I want _all_ of you, the dark parts as well as the bright ones - "

He closed his eyes, not daring to believe her. After all, his other self had died clean, innocent… "It's so _ugly_. It's evil."

"Not any more. Sev…do it."

"What?" He couldn't think what she meant, nor how to argue with her -

"You told me you were good at it. _Do_ it."

_Oh._

She was looking at him with such utter, perfect trust that his throat tightened and ached. It was a matter of a whisper. "_Legilimens._"

It was more immediate than the Pensieve, _alive_ in a way those memories never were; _Lily_, open to him without a hint of fear or holding back. He saw himself through her eyes, felt himself through her senses, and he was a too-thin scarred man who was her hungry heart's desire, so beautiful and desirable that no one else on Earth would do. The marks on his body were just part of him, part of the pain in him she longed to heal; even the stigma of the Dark Mark held no repulsion.

It was his eyes filling with tears now, her fingers blotting them away. "There, see?"

He was shuddering, still lost in the taste of her love for him. "Ah - Lily - "

"It can't hurt me, not now. It's just a scar now, love. And scars mean you've _survived._" She smiled, and he felt his last restraint eroding away, crumbling into nothing like rust.

He raised his hands, pressed her palms to his mouth so he could kiss them. "Lily…you are a miracle."

Her smile went wicked, and she tugged him towards the bed. "Of course I am. Now come here, and stop _arguing_."

Resistance was, quite clearly, useless. Not that he _wanted_ to; the strange joy warming his blood wouldn't permit it. "Your servant, madam," he said, and obeyed.

**xxxx**

The house wards had not reacted, but the footsteps coming in the door were not Lily's. Severus frowned, fingers finding his wand before he leaned out of the kitchen doorway.

Heather dropped her satchel on one of the parlour chairs and grinned at him shyly. "Um. Hi."

"…Good afternoon." Severus blinked. He had known that Heather would arrive eventually, but somehow he had neglected to form a plan for it. _I have absolutely no idea what to say to her._

The young woman who was not quite his daughter slid past him easily. "Is there any tea?"

Tea, it seemed, was an inherited panacea. Severus watched as Heather pulled together the makings for it, and began assembling a plate of biscuits more out of the desire to prove he had a right than because he was actually hungry. But Heather seemed to notice nothing amiss. "Where's Mum?"

"Having lunch with Professor Sinistra. I expect her back soon."

"Or late," Heather said blithely, tapping the kettle with her wand to bring it to a boil. "Their arguments can take hours. D'you want lemon?"

She had her mother's self-assurance, at least; within minutes they were sitting at the kitchen table, much as he had the first day he'd arrived, regarding each other cautiously. Severus knew that Heather had been instrumental in winning permission for him to transfer between worlds, but how she felt about him suddenly becoming a part of her mother's life -

"You're staying?" she asked abruptly.

"I am planning on it," Severus replied. He was starting to believe that he _could_, at least.

Heather nodded and took a biscuit. "You know, I've never seen Mum happy before. Completely, I mean."

Her words formed a bubble of something light and effervescent in his chest, but her gaze was sharp. "I have every intention of keeping her so," he said. In truth, he couldn't imagine trying to do anything else.

Heather nodded again. "Good."

They sat in fairly peaceful silence for a few minutes, watching each other surreptitiously. Severus wrapped his fingers around his cup and felt the heat sinking into his joints before he spoke again. "I have no idea how to be a father."

Heather nudged the biscuit plate towards him. "I'm not sure I need one, at this point." Her tone was light.

Severus cocked his head. "Perhaps…we could try to be friends, at least." She would never know what a concession it was; it had been many years since he had attempted something as potentially dangerous as friendship.

Heather grinned again. "I'd like that. Severus."

He let himself smile, and raised his cup to her. "Friends, then. Heather."

He asked her, carefully, about what she did in the Auror office; as he suspected, it was much the same as Harry's responsibilities, a clever youngster struggling with fame and a decent amount of ambition in the aftermath of a war.

"What about you?" she asked at last, munching on a biscuit and then blushing. "Sorry, I don't mean to - "

" - Ask if I am sponging off your mother?" Severus asked with grim humour. "It's a fair question." And not one he'd considered before he'd made up his mind to go through the mirror, but he and Lily had discussed it since. "When term begins I will begin brewing potions in the lab here in the cellar. It will take a little time to establish a reputation, but my skills are great enough that I should amass a clientele fairly quickly."

It wasn't idle boasting; he _was_ that good, but teaching and…other activities…had always absorbed the bulk of his time. Fortunately, the wizarding world was full of eccentric and reclusive personalities. His sudden appearance on the scene of high-end potion creation would cause a fuss only until he proved his talent.

And in the meantime…he'd brought enough with him in his pockets to keep him, and Lily if she wished it, quite comfortably for at least a year or two. One of the benefits of the life he'd led was a steady salary combined with almost nothing to spend the money on.

Heather asked him for stories about Harry, which was a nice compromise between his comfort and her curiosity about Severus' life. So he told her a little about young Potter, tempering his usual acidity, and not even finding it unsettling when she would nod at remembering the same incident.

"Tell me about growing up at Hogwarts," he requested in turn, eager to hear more of Lily, and they talked through another pot of students and ghosts and even Dumbledore. Most of the teachers Severus had known were gone, either killed in the battle or choosing to leave afterwards, but he was oddly pleased to hear that Hagrid had stayed.

"He was always - Hagrid had a simple faith," he mused. Dumbledore had said Severus was to be trusted, so Hagrid had trusted him. It was something he'd learned to value, even when he'd had to betray it.

Heather pointed at the last biscuit, and when Severus shook his head, took it herself. "How is your new identity working for you?"

"I've scarcely tested it," Severus said drily. "But no one seems to notice anything." The Auror office had arranged a new name and background for him, as a favour to Heather and Lily. He was supposedly a distant cousin of Lily's deceased husband, should anyone remember what the dead man had looked like; most pictures were in Lily's possession. Becoming Septimus Prince felt fitting.

"I bet the old ladies across the street have," Heather started, but the sound of the front door opening made her pause. "Hello Mum!"

Lily appeared in the kitchen doorway, grinning at them both, and the effervescent bubble in Severus' chest expanded to fill all of him. "Did you leave me any tea?" Lily asked, walking over to kiss him and circling the table to hug her daughter.

He expected to feel an outsider in that moment, excluded from the family that wasn't quite his, but…he didn't. The automatic flinch, the need to conceal his reaction - it simply wasn't necessary.

Smiling, Severus summoned a cup for Lily, and Heather poured the tea.

**xxxx**

"You're sure, Sev?"

"No," he said frankly. "I've only been to Hogwarts once since - well. But I would like to see where you work."

"Only so you can covet my laboratory." Lily linked her arm through his and smirked at him.

He drew his elbow in so that she had to step closer. "If yours is as draughty as mine was, then absolutely not."

That won him a laugh, and she Disapparated them.

Despite his light words, Severus was not looking forward to the sight of the old stone pile where he'd spent so many years. There were happy memories associated with it - a few - but on the whole it was a place he had hoped never to visit again, unexpected flying visits to Minerva notwithstanding. But Lily taught there, and he would _not_ be a coward about it.

So when the squeeze of Apparition spat them both out just outside the grounds, it was natural for him to say nothing for a moment.

But not for the reason he expected.

The grounds were the same; the Forbidden Forest aflame with autumn colours and the grass still a vivid green. But the castle reflected in the Black Lake was a dream of white stone and glistening spires, a spun-sugar fantasy accented with snapping pennons and glittering, stained-glass windows. The only thing that saved it from terminal beauty was the impregnable _solidity_ of it, that spoke of endurance and protection beyond the hopes of mere mortals.

Severus blinked rapidly, trying to assimilate the differences. A cool hand on his cheek had him looking down. "All right?" Lily asked, concerned.

He smiled at her - really, he'd smiled more in the past weeks than he had since he was a child - and squeezed her arm gently. "It's not what I expected. Better, I think."

"Ah." They started down the path towards the castle. "You'll have to tell me about it later."

Severus made an assenting noise. Lily never pressed him for details about the more painful parts of his life, but she had all the curiosity she'd ever possessed, and he satisfied it when he could. Some things were still too raw to mention.

Hogwarts' interior was a dizzying mix of the familiar and the utterly strange. The staircases were the same, and many of the portraits, but the layout was entirely different and the Great Hall was a soaring arch of white stone with magic windows instead of a magic ceiling. Severus found it reassuring.

Flitwick was still there; Filch and Sinistra and Pomfrey as well, though Sprout had left and McGonagall - and many of the others he'd known in his own world - had perished in the battle. They passed various teachers and students in the corridors, all of them greeting Lily cordially and Severus with interest, but Lily stayed to talk to none of them, leading Severus down to the dungeon level. "If we start chatting, we'll never get there," she said under her breath as they passed Bill Weasley. "They're all desperately curious about you."

Severus gave an ostentatious shudder at the notion. He knew by Lily's memories that she had taken up with no one since her widowing, which no doubt spurred the interest, but he had no more desire than she to start _explaining._

The potions classroom and lab were almost exactly like his own, but that was less disturbing than he expected; the familiarity in this, at least, was oddly reassuring. The professor's quarters beyond were mostly being used for storage. Severus drifted around the rooms, examining details, while Lily dealt with an urgent message that had come in that morning.

"You and Heather lived here while she was growing up?" he asked when she was finished.

"Yes, except for summers. It was easier - and safer, the last few years." Lily rubbed her forehead. "I'm afraid I became a bit of a recluse after - well, after."

Affection, for him, was still a conscious decision. Severus crossed the room and pulled her gently into his arms, feeling her return the embrace with a never-failing surge of pleasure. He had learned not to be jealous of this vanished other self, who sometimes seemed almost a memory rather than a story from others' lips. That alone had him occasionally wondering if he had gone mad after all, but if so he preferred madness to sanity.

"I would much rather you commute," he murmured into her hair, and felt her smile.

"The way you cook, I'd be an idiot not to come home for supper."

Severus snorted, but didn't let her go. "I cannot understand how so talented a brewer can be such a miserable failure with actual food - "

Lily poked him in the ribs. "It's gotten me out of doing the cooking for a lifetime. Why should I change?"

In that moment, the strange new configuration that had begun that last night atop Hogwarts snapped into place, easing a tension that had been part of him for so long that its absence was a foreign thing. Severus closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Lily's hair and and struggling for balance.

She squirmed. "You're squashing me, love…"

"Sorry." Severus released her, trying to figure out what had just happened. Lily pressed a quick kiss to his chin.

"It's all right. Seen enough? We can have lunch in the Great Hall if you don't mind the speculative looks, or we can just go home."

"Home," Severus said firmly. "I will prepare whatever you wish for lunch if you will spare me that."

Lily laughed. "Home it is, then."

And it was home, Severus realised as they passed back through its door. More of a home, in fact, than any he had possessed for years. There was no way to go back - but he had absolutely no desire to do so.

They ate in the back garden, setting up a ward to keep off the wasps and enjoying the weather. Severus kept himself in the shade of the old cherry tree that arched over the table, but Lily sat in the sun, half-closing her eyes and basking in it, and he kept losing himself in the fire of her hair and the glow of her skin.

_She always was a child of light._

And he of darkness, but even the night could be benign; he fancied it made them a better match, one to the other. _She has removed all my curses. _

Lily blinked lazily at him, setting aside her glass. "So, have you decided to stay?" she asked lightly.

Her tone was casual, but Severus saw her other hand clench where it lay on her thigh. They had made no formal decision, for all they shared her bed now; Lily had kept her word and given him room and time. Time to learn to believe, he realised; in himself, in her.

He'd kissed her, and the world hadn't ended; they'd even fought, and nothing had happened but that they'd made up. The sight of that nervous fist gave him almost all the confidence he needed.

_Believe. _

Severus reached across the table and took her hand. "Are you certain you want me to? I'm an arrogant, sulky, greedy - "

" - Greedy, manipulative bastard, I know," Lily said, smile growing. "As you said when you asked me to marry you."

"The first time." What was this lunatic courage, so counter to his careful planning and reserve? Who was he becoming?

_Someone beloved._

"I think perhaps we should formalise the relationship…again." He tugged her hand up to kiss it.

Her fingers curved around his cheek, a touch that fed his hungry heart. "Are you certain?" she mimicked, and he was wise enough now to know that the tears sparkling in the sunlight were a good thing. "I'm an overbearing, reckless, stubborn know-it-all…"

"Did you say that the last time?" It was so easy to slide close and gather her to him, sun-warmed fragrance and weight and _life_.

"I was too busy kissing you." Her mouth was salty with her tears, and so soft on his, and he almost forgot what he'd been saying.

"Are you certain?" she repeated when they parted for breath, and the uncertainty in her eyes made him ache in sympathy. "Sev, I walked out and left you to die alone."

"I betrayed you to Voldemort." He held her gaze. "As you absolved me, so I absolve you. Forgiven, Lily. We go on from here."

Her smile was the one he had always dreamed about. "Forever?"

He held her tightly. "Always."

And there was no more need for words.

End.


End file.
